MEMENTO MORI
by SRAllan
Summary: "Remember (that you have) to die." Named for a dragon. A sister to three stags. A storm. Having been greatly sheltered for the majority of her life, Rhaelle is suddenly summoned to the capital. On the brink of a war, a death, a forbidden relationship and the notion of combined houses sees the young woman abandoned in the north with a husband that she never wanted.
1. Chapter 1

_**PROLOGUE**_

"I'm not going"

A bored expression dulled Stannis Baratheon's eyes as he sat in the council chambers of Storm's End, and drawled: "Yes. You are."

The late morning sun shone through the tall windows, catching the tenacity in her blue-green stare each and every time she strode past it. Her long dark hair fell in waves around her shoulders, flying like the sails of a ship in the wind as she spun towards him and waved the letter in front of her.

"'The King commands it.' Who, in Seven Hells, does Robert think he is?"

"The King."

Whilst the elder of the two remained monotonous and unamused in his response, a musical laugh erupted into the room like birds released from captivity. Her stormy stare landed on Renly as he approached, his eyes - much like hers in colour - crinkled in amusement. However his laughter at her expense was soon cut short as he arrived at her side. He stumbled back slightly on his feet as the younger woman shoved him, barely overpowering him.

"Why must you always be such a boy, sister?"

As Renly scowled at her, she grinned: "Because you are girl enough for both of us, brother."

The youngest Baratheon siblings had always been inseparable, much to Stannis' dismay when his sister would wind their brother up. For a fraction of a second, as he watched them niggle, he thought back to their childhood. Thirteen and fourteen years their senior, and with an elder brother off starting a war and parents long buried, Stannis had played a vital role in their growth. However, as he viewed them as bickering adults, he neglected the memory of the brother and sister that had been each other's best friend as they ran unruly and wild through the corridors, wreaking havoc amongst the garrison at the height of the year-long-siege, and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Enough." He rasped, bringing the conversation back to the matter at hand. Back to his brother's orders. "Rhaelle pack your things."

"No." Named for their grandmother, the young woman had grown to inherit as much fire in her veins as expected from the blood of the dragons.

"I don't have time for this." His expression was as stoic as ever. Tone even and eyes uncaring. "If I have to drag you kicking and screaming, I will."

"You'd have to catch me first and everyone in the Seven Kingdoms knows that the mighty Stannis Baratheon does not smile, let alone run." Rhaelle grinned brightly at Renly as he burst out into another harmonious laugh, this time at the expense of his brother. The pair an unrelenting force when on the same side of the battle.

"I am not playing any games. Robert has decided that you shall reside in the capital with him, and we all know that he gets what he wants. One way or another." Stannis' eyes were ablaze as he looked up from his battle-worn gloves, only softening to the keenest of gazes as they landed on the only sibling that had always loved him unconditionally. The contempt that he had held for their brother, ebbing slightly as she sighed and met his stare evenly.

"Walk the wall with me."

"No."

"Stannis, please." Ocean green eyes widened as they pleaded, oozing the childlike innocence that accompanied the protection from her older brother and the safety of the walls that she called home. An innocence that would never survive King's Landing. "Gods know if I will ever have the chance to return here."

From his seat to his sister's right, Renly watched his siblings. Both horrendously stubborn. "Go on, brother. We all know that you've never been able to resist that face." He urged, smirking as he continued: "Besides, you might return to find her belongings packed and horse saddled."

The only daughter born to Steffon Baratheon and Cassana Estermont scowled as she muttered under her breath: "Traitor." However, her disdain was short-lived as the man that she had idolised since birth, sighed heavily and rose from his seat.  
The very first man that Rhaelle Baratheon had wrapped around her dainty little finger.

* * *

The wind battered her as she stood on the wall that surrounded the stronghold; pulling at her hair. The cool ocean air reddened her cheeks and she almost felt as though she could fly as she spread her arms wide. Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath of the salty air. A smile tugging at her lips, wild and as untamed as the waves below. To her, this was freedom. Freedom in its purest of forms. She had wanted to feel that one last time before conforming to her brother's request of obeying Robert. Feel the wind cradle her and know that she was truly and utterly free, one last time before any notion of freedom or solidarity was ripped from her by the King. After all, in a world of mysteries and corruption, no being alive had ever seen a stag that could fly.

Stannis glanced at her out of the corner of his eye, muttering: "Watch you don't fall."

"I'm going to miss them." Her gaze was fixated on a single point of Shipbreaker Bay, causing her brother's stoicism to falter slightly as he realised that she was referring to their absent parents. "I never knew them but whenever I am standing right _here_, looking out over the bay, I feel as though they are right here beside me. I don't want to leave. I know that I have to but…" As she trailed off, the second eldest Baratheon watched her. Searching her expression. However, as a man of very few words, he neglected to dispel the silence. The ocean air tugged at her raven hair, eyes stinging as she blinked back the tears of a loss that she had always known. A hole that had been made before her first name day. Taking another deep breath and banishing her pain, she spun around to face her brother, so quickly that he shot out a hand to steady her, for fear that she would tumble off the edge. "Do you remember when you taught me to shoot a bow for the first time? I was…five?" Stannis nodded curtly. "You told me that I didn't need a sword like Renly because if I was smart, I would never need to be within six feet of my enemies." A confused frown deepened the ridges that sat just below the shadow of hair at the forefront of his brow. "I am going to be drowning in them in King's Landing. Everyone knows that it is a viper pit there. Full of spies and horrible people."

"Who is 'everyone'?"

"Maester Cressen." Rhaelle scrunched up her nose as she admitted her lack of knowledge and a sound that could almost resembled a chortled laugh escaped Stannis. He should have suspected as much scaremongering from the old man that had raised him and his siblings after their parents perished and before his elder brother rode off to start a rebellion.

"Come on. Get down from there, we have to ride before sundown." A kind expression crossed the man's hard eyes as he held out a gloved hand to his sister. As her hand clutched at his own, a subtle hint of fear brewed in the depths of his mind. Storm's End had been all that the young woman had ever known. She had been kept from the clutches of politics by his protective nature. Shielded from anyone who would do her harm, and whilst the man had taught her archery, he now feared that she was right. That she was entirely unprepared to leave behind her childlike ignorance; to grow up. That King's Landing would swallow her whole. As logic made his fears rather real, he turned to his youngest sibling and placed his hands on her shoulders. Stannis Baratheon had always had a very special place in his heart for Rhaelle. A cordoned off section of himself that was reserved only for the child that padded barefoot through the castle to seek him out when the terrors of the storms that raged outside tore her from her slumber; for the babe that reserved her very first smile for the serious and overly mature teenage boy that many people neglected to acknowledge as he suffocated in the shadow of his hugely popular older brother. It was that love, the love of a brother to his only sister, that had weakened her. She had never been forced to fight for hers own causes, never had to approach anything with the maturity of someone twice her age. His love for her had allowed her to live as happily and as carefree as she desired and now, Robert was about to take that away. "It's time to mature into the young woman that I know you are capable of being. You are not a child any more and the world is unforgiving." As Stannis spoke, she listened intently and nodded lightly. "I know that this relocation will be hard for you but we must do our duty. Great or small, we must do our duty. Find strength in perceived weakness and soar when you feel like you ought to fall."


	2. Chapter 2

CHAPTER I

The ride was much too short for her liking. Whilst she disliked being separated from her brothers as they carried out their duties on the King's small council, she would much prefer to be back in the comfort of Storm's End. The warmth of the sun was absorbed by her black as night curls, yet it did nothing to melt her frosty exterior.

"Delaying the inevitable by forcing that horse to walk so agonisingly slow, is doing nothing but showing the Gods how cruel you are." His tone was ever-as-jesting and his eyes sparkled with glee as he looked back to the expression of disdain that his younger sister wore.

"There are no Gods."

"Now, I know Stannis believes that, but since when have you agreed?"

"Since they forced me to go to King's Landing."

Renly's laughter rung out against the birdsong that lined the shrubs along the Kingsroad, as he shouted: "Do you hear that, brother? Rhaelle thinks we're gods." Throwing his head back laughing like he used to when he was a child, the youngest Baratheon lord barely noticed as the horse behind him sped up. His own steed suddenly jolting forward as his sister reached over to slap its rear. "Very mature, sister!" He called back to her, chuckling harder as the corners of her eyes crinkled, and her lips twitched, fighting a smile.

As the King's siblings entered the gates of King's Landing, it was as if they were engulfed in a greenhouse. The air became thick and heavy. Every breath swamped with the stench of life, and not the good type. Not the type that filled each sigh with the hope of a better tomorrow, the smell of sweet roses as they bloom under the summer sun. No. This was the stench of a life not worth living. Of overpopulation, famine and decay.

Rhaelle's lips parted slightly as she witnessed the sordid reality of life in the capital for those born without money. Without privilege. Instinctively, she forced her mare forward until she was in line with her brother. It had been the case since the moment that she had taken her first steps, the child of merely two years old wrenching herself free from the maester and tumbling towards the teenager as he had entered the hall at Storm's End. An inherit reflex that saw her retreat to his side whenever she had felt even slightly out of her depths. Noting her presence, and the action of habit, the second eldest stag spared a glance to the young doe. His hardened stare took in the sheer look of terror on her expression. His youngest sibling was a lot of things - naive, and stubbornly proud with a penchant for allowing her heart to rule her - but fear was rarely allowed to slip out of the tiny little box that she had locked it in. Rarely visible to those who were not looking closely enough. However, in that moment, it was evident for the world to see.

King's Landing was a vast ocean with no sign of familiar land to anchor her. Deep and unforgiving, and if she didn't learn to tread water quickly, it would drown her.

* * *

"We are about to be received by the King and the Queen. Remember your manners, they will serve you well." Stannis' tone was as dry as ever, commanding her like one of his many soldiers. "First impressions on the court are everything."

Loyally heeding every order to the letter, the youngest Baratheon followed her brothers into the throne room. Afore her was a man with long black hair and a wild beard flecked with grey, and laughing eyes that matched Stannis' in colour. His large form was squeezed onto a throne made entirely of swords, and a petite and rather beautiful yellow-haired woman sat to his right. Curtseying lowly, Rhaelle paused a mere ten-feet from her eldest brother. To say that she knew him would be fraudulent. To say that he knew anything of her would also be so.

A relationship denied by a war.

"Rhaelle!" The King boomed, "You're prettier than I remember."

Her jaw tensed, another (more unfortunate) reflex. Out of the corner of her eye, she noted the way in which Stannis' fist clenched. The sudden charge in the atmosphere forced the more diplomatic of the three to step forward with his adoration-winning smile: "It has been a long time, hasn't it? Our sister is quite the beauty."

As her brother clasped a gentle hand on her shoulder, she allowed herself to relax and paint on a gracious smile: "Thank you for inviting me, Your Grace. Renly is right, it has been a long time. I hope for the chance to reacquaint ourselves."

Robert beamed proudly at the youngest of his siblings. He had never cared for either of his brothers, and whilst he remained linked to Rhaelle only through blood, her presence in the Red Keep was an opportunity to rectify that. An opportunity to surround himself with people that he could trust. Whilst the Baratheon lords conversed, the dark-haired woman noted the Queen's stony gaze as it landed on someone over her shoulder. Following the stare, her attention landed on a knight of the Kings Guard. Turquoise mingled with cat-green as she met his gaze. A light smile passing her lips as she considered him. He was older than her by a number of years, with hair the colour of spun gold as it shone against the streaming light from the window above him, grazing the shoulder plates of armour that matched. He held her gaze like the strongest chains in creation until a gentle shade of rose brandished her cheeks as she realised that she was staring. Reluctantly peeling her eyes from his, she snapped her attention back to the King; missing the disgust that contorted the expression on his wife's face.

* * *

"Ah. You must be Lady Rhaelle. The youngest of the King's siblings."

The voice rung out through the corridor as the woman was on the way to her new chambers. Secretly grateful from the alleviation of the heavy silence courtesy of her guard, she turned to meet the source:

"And you must be Lord Tyrion Lannister." She concluded, eyeing the half-man in front of her. His hair golden and eyes emerald.

"Why? Because I'm rather lacking in stature?" Upon realising how rude she had been, Rhaelle tumbled over her words in an attempt to apologise, before setting on an exasperated sigh, internal curse, and reddened cheeks. Tyrion chuckled. "That level of embarrassment can only mean one thing - you've been told to mind your manners and watch your tongue."

A gentle and albeit nervous laugh escaped her lips, "Yes, my Lord."

"Tyrion. No one treats me with any respect around here, why should you?" As the man studied her, she painted a neutral mask; fully aware of the scrutiny that she was under as a new member at court. "I see that your brothers have finally released you from your tower. How lucky you were to have avoided court for so long. Though I am sure that the constant babying has done _wonders _for your naivety."

"Well as long as you're sure." She blurted, sarcasm winning over courtesy once more. Clearing her throat lightly in an attempt to mask it, she asked: "Any advice?" A redundant question but the first to spring to mind.

"Trust no one." The Lannister man answered as quick as a fork of lightening. Pausing to ponder a better response, before adding: "And play the doting sister. The sweet naive little doe. It is better to be underestimated." Her pale brow furrowed as she considered the hidden meaning within his words. However, she was soon set free from her curiosity as the dwarf answered her silent question. "Everyone wants power."

"I don't."

"You will. In a world of traitors, you could do with some allies, if you ever want someone normal to talk to, 'The Imp' is the best you are going to get." Bowing his head ever-so-slightly, Tyrion turned on his heel and walked down the corridor. Abandoning her once more to the deathly silence of the guard appointed to her by Stannis. Her ever-protective elder brother having argued with the King whilst refusing to assign her care to anyone that he had not personally dealt with.

* * *

Her chambers were more than she could ever imagine. Brighter than Storm's End, with ivory walls and gilded gold. The sun shone brightly through the thin white curtains that veiled the large windows; the air was as still as the Sept of Baelor.

"I find this entirely unnecessary." She muttered, rummaging through the numerous dresses that her handmaidens had lain out for her. "And a waste of the crown's coin."

"And what do you know of the crown's coin?" Her brother smirked, a chuckle shaking his shoulders and glistening in his eyes as he sat at her dressing table, toying with a bracelet. "This is nice, where did you get it?"

Sparing a glance, the younger woman answered: "Ser Robar Royce." Renly hummed in response, well aware of the knight's interest in his sister. However, the stubborn girl had yet to show affection to any of her suitors. "What about this one?"

Lifting his head, the Baratheon lord met eyes that matched his own before trailing his gaze down to the fabric in her hands. His nose crinkled as he examined the gown: "Where in Seven Hells did you get _that?_"

"I made it."

"Then unmake it." His laughter reverberated against the walls of her bedchamber as she launched the dress at his bemused expression. Feigned annoyance was soon banished from her face as she glanced at him; a grin spreading across her previously down-turned lips. "Worry not, sister! I know exactly where we can get you a new dress."

As Renly jumped from his seat and rubbed his hands together in excitement, Rhaelle rolled her eyes: "_Of course, you do._"

* * *

All eyes turned to the youngest pair of the King's siblings as they arrived "suitably late". Her hand rested on her brother's forearm as they walked to the centre of the hall of ceremonies. A subtle smirk painted red lips as she noted the attention her outfit had drawn.

"I told you that we would give them something to talk about." Renly muttered, a near identical smirk twitching at the corner of his mouth. Many eyes wandered the deep red gown that fell loosely from a golden chain that clasped her neck, pinching her waist at a crown of golden leaves; the fabric caressed her, flowing gently with each movement that she made. "There is someone that I want to talk with."

As her eyes followed his to the young Knight of Flowers, she smiled gently and nodded: "I will be fine. Go to him."

Renly grinned, kissing his sister's cheek and muttering: "Play nice." before disappearing into the crowd.

It was not long before the young woman tired of political pleasantries. She had been in the capital a mere few days and had already learned the importance of flattery. It was true what the maesters and septons had said, people in King's Landing were indeed rather vain; valuing the appearance of wealth and the opinions of their peers above anything. Money was and had always been equal to power. Perhaps that was why many whispered that whilst a Baratheon held the throne, the real rulers of the Seven Kingdoms were in fact the Lannisters of Casterly Rock. Finding a quiet corner, the young doe took a deep breath and revelled in the solidarity.

"My Lady." A crackled yet warm voice greeted, offering her a goblet of wine. "You have grown into quite the beauty."

"Why does everyone say that about a Lady? No one remarks on our intelligence or our wit." The aged man chuckled as she accepted the goblet and bowed her head lightly, "Although, my brothers have already chided me for my manners so I ought to thank you, Lord Arryn."

"Call me Jon, child."

"Jon." Rhaelle smiled kindly as she regarded the man that had become like a father to her her eldest brother. "I suppose, I also have you to thank for my summoning here?"

A reminiscent smile graced his wrinkling expression: "As Hand of the King, I would love to claim that your brother does anything I ask of him." The young woman glanced at him, sympathetically. "Perhaps he missed your company."

"Robert has not been in my presence since I was a child. I hear he, like many here in the capital, values only the company of those who can do something for him. I am yet to work out what he wants."

"You must give him a little more credit than that. He does care about you." The Hand of the King placed a warm hand on her shoulder, smiling encouragingly as the woman hummed in response. She could see why Robert was so fond of him. Kindness and honour seemingly exuded from him and within a few minutes, the young doe had gathered that the man was unlike the other lords that pranced around the kingdom. Laughter suddenly boomed throughout the hall, drawing the attention of all to the King as he staggered and stumbled through the crowd, an overfilled goblet clutched in his fat hand. "If you'll excuse me, My Lady."

Sea green eyes followed the man as he tailed her brother, muttering advice; advice that fell on deaf, drunken ears. A loud crack erupted as the boorish man slapped the behind of a passing serving girl, spilling his wine as he laughed once more. Rhaelle grimaced, trying her best to hide her disdain behind another sip from her own goblet; the wine burning her throat as she swallowed heavily.

"Funny that. He makes me pull the exact same expression." The voice startled her as it came from behind, forcing her to spin around. Almost bumping into a chest of gold armour, her eyes trailed upwards to meet a shining grin then mesmerising emerald. "I don't believe that we've been formally introduced." His voice was smooth and each syllable appeared to dance from his lips as he offered her his hand; confidence oozing out of him like pus from an infected wound. "Jaime Lannister."

"The Kingslayer."

Her tone was monotonous as she nodded once and turned back to watch the feasting crowd. Jaime retracted his hand with a smirk as he concluded, "I see that my reputation precedes me."

"Rhaelle."

"What?"

"You offered me your name." Sea green eyes returned to his as a dark brow raised in question, "Are you that self-important that you required nothing in return?"

The Lannister's charming grin reappeared, it was not often that he was met with a woman who had not yet fallen at his feet. Not often that he was met with a woman whom had held his attention for longer than courtesy required; whom had momentarily stolen his gaze from his sister.

"A Targaryen name."  
"My grandmother's." Emerald eyes daggered her, pulling her own attention to where the Queen was perched at the top table, abandoned by her husband; a mercy, though to the husband or the wife, Rhaelle had yet to decide. "Your sister does not appear to like me very much." She murmured, noting the way that the woman regarded her as if she were a sour grape ruining a fine wine.

"My sister does not appear to like anyone very much." The Baratheon smiled ever-so-slightly, thanking a servant as they refilled her cup with wine. Jaime studied her - perhaps trying to understand her motives - as she took a long sip from her goblet. Her lips glistened in the candlelight, pulling his stare for a moment before it fell; lingering on her exposed neck as she swallowed. His tongue darted out to touch his lips briefly, before he swallowed; forcing the entirety of his attention to the only woman that he had ever loved.

Entirely unaware of the thoughts of the man beside her, Rhaelle nodded towards the bald eunuch in the grey robes. "That man over there. Varys. How does a man with no title end up on the King's small council?" As she turned her attention to the knight, he slowly pulled his gaze to meet her.

Careful not to answer too quickly, Jaime frowned; confused as to why the young woman would have want of such information. Information that he himself had never yearned to know: "Why?" His eyes dragged over her face, agonisingly slow as she answered simply.

"Curious."

"Curiosity will get you killed."

Taking a long swig of wine, he held her gaze over the top of his goblet. Refusing to back down, the younger woman smiled: "As could a simple sip of wine."

Emerald released her, allowing her to dart sea-green to eye the goblet in his hand. Understanding her pointed stare, he pulled it from his lips. Rhaelle smirked.

A commotion at the door stole her attention from the Lannister, and her intrigue wandered to her older brother as he came into view. His expression was a stoic and stern as ever, his eyes appeared dark and his complexion a tired grey. He conversed with a stranger, seemingly deep in discussion before he sought her out; waving her over. "If you'll excuse me, Ser. My brother requires my attention." The Lady alerted the knight. "Enjoy the wine."

She tilted her goblet in a mocking toast, mischief glittering in her stormy ocean coloured eyes prompting a grin to spread across his lips which she gladly returned before turning on her heel and obediently heading towards the man whom she considered as her eldest of two brothers.

He regarded her, lingering as she approached the Baratheon lord and smiled dutifully at the man in his company. Lingering as the stranger bent to place a chaste kiss against the knuckles of her right hand. Lingering as sea-green wandered back to him. Meeting his stare, her eyes appeared to trail over him. The shadow of a dimple scarred a pale cheek as he held up his goblet in a silent toast and she fought a smile. However, her straying attentions had not gone unnoticed by her brother as he observed the soft pink that glittered her cheekbones. Stannis' already dark expression, appeared to darken as he watched the interaction before muttering into his sister's ear. The sternness in his glower, only serving to spur the Lannister's attention further.

A bumbling servant approached, pushing their way through the crowd towards the man with the golden hair and rudely yanking his fixation from the youngest Baratheon as they wheezed: "Excuse me, Ser Jaime. The Queen has requested your presence. _Immediately_."

* * *

Sleep was a welcomed friend as her dark curls finally graced the pillows that clouded her bed. Every hair felt heavy and every muscle ached with exhaustion. However, slumber had only meant to greet her briefly before she was ripped from its comforting clutches by a scream. Sweat glittered her brow as she bolted upright, her hands like the fabric that veiled her bedside as it shivered in the breeze from the window. The scream that had woken her had been strangled and distant. Unfamiliar and haunted. Yet, as the door to her chambers rattled off the wall and her guards entered with swords drawn, she realised that it had been her own.

"Are you alright, mi'lady?"

Widened eyes recalled the dream plagued slumber. Swallowing and speaking with more authority than she had ever felt, the young doe ordered: "Fetch me my brother."

"Which of your brothers do you require, mi'lady?"

"Stannis. _Obviously._"

It was not long before Stannis Baratheon answered the call of his sister. Tired and highly unimpressed at being dragged from his bed in the early hours of the morning. However, as he entered the chambers and his searching stare landed on Rhaelle, his expression twisted from one of annoyance to one of concern. The young woman sat at her dressing table, her knees to her chest and cradling her chin. Eyes firmly glued to the flickering flame of a candle.

"What is it?"

"The dreams. They're back." He could barely make out her expression through the darkness though no light was needed to inform him that she had been scared. A childlike fear being squashed into a tiny box within her mind as she tried to maintain composure. She swallowed heavily; staring into the flames. "I was a deer running through an unfamiliar woodland. My legs burning with pain, but I couldn't stop. Hunted by a wolf larger than anything I have ever seen, it tore at me and I…I was terrified." Her eyes were distant as she recalled the dream; lacking the warmth that radiated her personality, lacking any resemblance. A subtle frown contorted her brow as she struggled to articulate. "Just as it clamped its jaws around my neck, a red dragon flew down from a deep dark sky." A reminiscent smile quirked her lips, earning a troubled frown from her brother. "It was for but a moment until it was trapped. Bound by an iced cage aloft a snowy peak." The flame danced in her irises as she trailed off, her dream-like tone haunting.

Stannis swallowed, "And this saddens you, why?"

"I suppose for that moment, in all that terror that the wolf had brought, I felt a little less alone."

As he approached her, he clamped a warm hand on her shoulder; seemingly snapping her from her daze. She turned her attention to him, her stare piercing him through the darkness and leaving an unnerving feeling in the pit of his stomach. His stoicism faltered.

"These dreams. You must never tell another of them, do you hear me?" Sinking down to kneel at her level, the second eldest Baratheon gently cradled her chin. "Not even Renly. It is a dangerous place for them to resurface. Promise me, Rhaelle. No more talk of dragons." Frowning lightly, she nodded - eyes darting between the matching pair in front of her. "I want you to say it."

"Brother, it was just a dream."

"Swear it." The man stared at her with scrutinising ferocity; his eyes wild and unsettling as he awaited her next words. His sister had never broken a verbal vow to him. There had been many a time during her childhood that she used to argue that because she had not spoken her promise aloud, she was not beholden to it. Though for such a matter as this, such a matter pertaining to his brother's hatred and the Targaryen blood that ran through their veins, he could not afford that leniency. The Baratheon named for their Targaryen grandmother, had always dreamt vividly. Waking the entire garrison as a child with dreams of fire and dragons. Dreams that often bared a haunting resemblance to future events. Maester Cressen had treated her with sleeping draughts, allowing him to believe that the night-terrors were a thing of the past. Yet, the blood of the dragon had grown prominent in the only daughter born to their father. And if they were not careful, no drunken haze could hide that from their absent brother; their King.

Reluctant, the younger Baratheon turned back to the flame that flickered beside her. Eyes steely as she muttered:

_"I swear."_


	3. Chapter 3

CHAPTER II

The screams and pleas of a child perked her ears as she wandered the depths of Flea Bottom. It was not uncommon to hear the begging of smallfolk as poverty was strife in the legendary capital, yet there was something different about this. Genuine distress. Caving to her curiosity, the young woman followed the sound; careful to keep the hood of her cloak over her dark waves. Within moments, sea-green sought out a young boy in torn and soiled rags. Mud was smeared across his face and his limbs were dark with grime; despite the filthy mask, she concluded that he could not have been more than seven years old. Either side of the child were two large men, one with a leather strap who struck the boy as he shouted profanities so gruffly that his words were indistinguishable, and another whom held the boy by the back of his neck despite all struggles.

Before she could think, she found herself between the filthy boy and the assailants, demanding that they release him. However, life in the capital was much different to that in Storm's End, especially when you neglect to use a title for authority.

Pudgy hands gripped her wrist so tightly that she wondered if it may fall from the bone attaching it. Hot spit sprayed her face and foul breath melted her eyelashes as respect was demanded. Rhaelle mentally cursed her impulsive nature, if only for a moment before the child was thrown; watching as he scrambled to his feet and took off running in the opposite direction. It had not taken long before the argument had gained the attention of those brave enough to show interest, and soon, a blade appeared from behind her.

"Careful. A temper like that will get you killed." A familiar voice rang out, causing the young woman to sigh in slight relief. The sword tapped the man's throat. "Release her." Her wrist throbbed as the pressure was extinguished. Blood rushed, heating the skin as she clutched at it. The men soon took off down the alleyway, prompting the knight beside her to raise a golden brow. "That was foolish."

"He was just a boy. He should not have to endure such cruelty."

"He was a thief."

"It was a loaf of bread. A stale one at that!" Rhaelle's brow creased as she stared at the man with an incredulous expression. However, his remained uncaring; it was always uncaring. "Though, I do not expect _you _to have any compassion."

The Lannister knight scoffed lightly, a hint of amusement swimming in emerald pools as the hot summer sun shone strikingly against the threads of spun gold that fell to his shoulders. "And what is that supposed to mean, _My Lady?_" His tone was jesting yet held a warning. Rhaelle Baratheon had never been one to heed warnings.

"Exactly what you suppose it does, _Ser_." Huffing, she rubbed at her wrist again - trying and failing to ease the pulsing.

Jaime's hand clasped hers as he momentarily forgot himself: "Stop rubbing at it. You are making it red." The doe pulled away from him with a scowl, her hair smacking him in the face as she turned on her heel and proceeded to make her way back to, what he presumed would be, the safety of the Red Keep. Taking a deep breath, she steeled her expression, masking the subtle hint of Lannister red as it crept across her pale complexion. "Why did you not tell that man who you were?"

"Because unlike _Lannisters_, I do not need to rely on my name." Her tone was harsher than intended (perhaps in a further attempt to mask the flutter in her stomach) as her gaze darted sideways to the man who had easily fallen into step with her. His lips twisted into his signature simper at her attempted insult. "If I did not know any better, I would say that you were following me."

"Perhaps I am merely heading back to my post." A dark eyebrow rose in suspicion, aquamarine eyes pierced him. His left cheek crinkled as he smirked and shook his head. Yellow shimmered in the sunlight. "And to think, you say that _I _am…what was the term? 'Self-important'?"

"Conceited…arrogant…any manner of relative words…" The Baratheon woman counted on fingers that had clearly never seen a moment of hard labour in their lives. As she waved her arms, she walked away from him once more and called over her shoulder: "You really have learned a lot from your sister."

As expected, the man followed her; if only to have the last word. "A lion does not concern itself with the opinions of sheep. You will not anger me by insulting her."

Rhaelle stopped in her tracks and turned to face him, so quickly that he almost collided with her. Her eyes flickered down, pausing momentarily on his mouth before settling back on his eyes as they were drawn to the way the light highlighted the moisture on her lips. Fighting a smirk, she noted that his words were empty as she whispered: "Tell that to your jawline."

Moving to pass him, she bit her lip only to walk into his chest as he cut her off. The King's sister rose her head to look at him, fighting every instinct that urged her to cross her arms in self-defence. Jaime painted on his signature grin once more as he tilted his head: emerald trailing a porcelain complexion. "You know, most ladies say thank you when they are rescued by a knight." His words trawled from his lips - slow and seductive - and as a smile crept across her face, the lion thought that he had finally caught the doe that he had been hunting.

"You are right." She muttered, closing the gap between them as she continued: "I do not give you enough credit." The lion's grin grew, pearly white teeth seemingly catching the sunlight. Her tongue trailed over her lips, drawing his attention, and she tilted her head - exposing her neck. Leaning ever closer to him, she whispered in his ear - mimicking the seduction in his previous tone. "You truly are very funny."

And with one final triumphant smirk, she was gone - leaving the Lannister dumbstruck. It was true that there were many things that the young woman had learned after moving to King's Landing. Yet the one that often stuck with her was a simple lesson from one of the prostitutes that Lord Tyrion had hired for company; a woman's greatest gift was the body that she was given and a man's underestimation.

* * *

Her time in the capital flew by as she became more acquainted with the life there. She would spend her mornings training in archery with Stannis, or walking among the people with Renly, and her afternoons outside in the gardens. Tyrion had become a friend and the pair would often spend an hour or two conversing, the former teaching about the power of knowledge in a place like Westeros, especially when you lack the skills in battle. It was also common to find the unlikely duo sharing whatever dirt that they had dug up about certain lords, over a wine in the evening. The young deer was truly fitting into life in King's Landing. Then there was Robert.

There was only so long that the Rhaelle could successfully avoid her eldest sibling. However, the King was in an increasingly precarious position and found himself in search of companions that he could truly trust and so, he sought out the youngest Baratheon. Be it to determine her motives, or gain an ally, Robert had a growing need to know his sister. And so, one afternoon he finally summoned her to dine with him. Summoned the only daughter born to Steffon Baratheon to give her absent brother one chance.

"I always loved the summers back at home." The young woman eventually spoke, her eyes lighting up as she recalled her life in Storm's End; a smile playing at her lips. "The marketplaces filled with fresh food and cheap summerwine. You could get drunk from a single deep breath."

"I remember that well!" Robert chuckled, "And the flowers. They were bloody everywhere!"

Sea- green sparkled as she chuckled. Her smile reminiscent. "Renly and I used to race around the castle to see who would be the first to collect one of each of them."

"Ah, I still remember the day I came back to Storm's End to visit from the Vale. I had just dismounted and I was almost knocked off my feet by you. It was the first time you had ever shown me affection. Turns out you had climbed a tree and launched an apple off Renly's head." His belly jiggled as he laughed, blue eyes crinkled and glistening in the sunlight that shone through the window. "Not far behind you was a red faced Stannis followed by Renly squealing like a skewed boar. You weren't pleased to see me, you were just in need of a shield."

"I do not recall that."

"No, I suppose you wouldn't." Robert grumbled. Settling further into his seat as he regarded the young woman afore him. She resembled their father. Or rather what he recalled of the man. Her eyes were sharp and appeared to penetrate even the strongest of armour, yet there was a kindness there; hidden but most definitely there. From what he had seen of her, their brothers' influences were evident in her demeanour. The disdain versus the carefree laughter and naivety. He sighed and took a swig of wine. "Ah, not that it matters. Not anymore. I was never the older brother that you wanted."

"You were never there." Regret contorted her expression, surprising him as she swallowed then continued in an even and rehearsed tone. "You were busy with your duties as Lord of Storm's End and then you were off to win a crown and hold the realm."

"Those are Stannis' words."

"I suppose they are." She smiled slightly at the thought of the second eldest Baratheon.

"You truly do love him." Robert deduced as Rhaelle nodded. The bond was one that she did not share with anyone else. Yes, she and Renly had always been the best of friends; they had played together all day every day, tormented their brother and the servants together, and grown up as close as two siblings could be. They wrote to each other whenever he was away from her, and relied on each other for comfort and support. However, Renly was not Stannis. As sharp and stubborn as her older brother could be, as humourless and stern, the young doe had adored him since she were but a babe clutching at his finger whenever he held her. Her first memories were of the grumpy teenage boy who would stare at her stoically before his expression softened in a way that the little girl thought was reserved only for her. It was Stannis who would hold her after a nightmare, telling tales of far-off kingdoms until she fell asleep again before sliding out of her grasp and returning to his chambers. It was Stannis who would scold her whenever she had behaved inappropriately, who would feign anger when she stood up for herself against the youngest of her brothers - sending him crying to the nursemaid when he would try to use his size against her. And it was Stannis who protected her, always. "Well, I suppose someone ought to." Robert's words drew her attention once more.

"Although, I am told that I share your temper."

His laugh ricocheted off the walls of his chambers as he lifted his goblet in a toast to the words of their house: "Ours is the Fury."

* * *

_Four months later._

"Mi'lady?" The gentle voice of her handmaiden rung out as she entered the modest chambers. "This was just delivered for you." Rhaelle lifted her head from the fabric in her hands. Her brother having demanded an opinion on the colours for a robe.

"They are beautiful." The Baratheon lord spoke, eyeing the flowers in the iron vase. "Who are they from?"

A smile pulled at her painted pink lips as she took the bouquet from the serving girl and examined it. Her eyes sparked with recognition as she smelled the brightly petalled flowers. The sight of them invoking a memory, better left unspoken. _"Anything of interest?" Her dark hair slapped her cheek as she spun her head to face the man who had crept up on her. Her eyes darting between the golden armour and the two men just down the corridor. As the targets of her eavesdropping turned and descended upon them in search of the new voice, the Baratheon girl grabbed the culprit's hand; dragging him behind her as she fled, before pushing him into the nearest room - small chambers that she assumed would belong to one of the Queen's ladies in waiting. A yellow brow rose: "What are you doing?"_

_"You nearly landed me in a whole world of trouble!" Rhaelle hissed back, matching his irritated tone until she noted that she still had his hand wrapped in her own. Jaime smirked as she all but threw him away from her, a gentle cerise glittering her cheekbones._

_"Are you going to tell me what you were up to?"_

_Sea-green grew darker as it muddled with emerald. Pressing her ear to the door, she whispered: "It is better that I don't."_

_"This doesn't have anything to do with my brother, does it? I've seen you both conspiring." "Jealous, are we?"_

_His armour scuffed the door slightly as he leant closer to her, his breath fanning her face as he smirked lightly: "Only about as jealous as you are of Cersei." He received no response and so continued. "You know…"_

_Upon hearing footsteps, the doe placed a finger to the lion's lips; silencing him as she listened intently. Closing her eyes, she focussed before muttering: "I think they're gone." Removing her ear from the thick wooden door, she turned her attention to him. Her eyes widening as she realised what she had done. Her fingertip left him, prompting the man to catch her hand - an all too familiar look in his eyes, this time mixed with hunger. Rhaelle swallowed, words catching in her throat. "Jaime, I…" Before any thought to generate in her mind, his lips were on hers. His hands pulling her closer as shock rescinded and she kissed him back. He pulled her closer still as her own fingers twisted into his hair. A month of pent up emotion and lust finally spilling to the surface. As the kiss deepened, the entangled pair stepped backwards. A loud clang forcing them to part as a vase of brightly petalled flowers tumbled to the ground._

_Smirking breathlessly, the Lannister knight laughed. The sound genuine and albeit a little foreign on his tongue: "Has anyone ever told you that you have an awful penchant for trouble?"_

_"Only every day of my life." Her words were but a whisper against his lips. A string of syllables meant only for the two of them. A secret; one that they prayed the other would keep._

Pulling herself from the depths of her mind and masking the childlike smile that threatened to expose her, Rhaelle finally answered Renly's question: "I don't know. There is no note."

As predicted, the King's sister sought out the man who had consumed her thoughts all day. He was where he always was mid-afternoon - positioned outside her brother's chambers as he dealt with 'important' business. Though everyone knew that there was no import to a meeting with a whore in a bedchamber.

"The flowers were beautiful." Her voice drew his attention as a cocksure grin appeared to reflect the light that shone down upon him. However, the young woman was not as foolish as many believed her to be and so she crossed her arms and raised a dark brow. "So, let me hear it, what do you want?"

Jaime shrugged, nonchalant as always: "Perhaps I merely saw them and thought of you." His teeth appeared as sharp as a lion's as his grin grew more prominent. "They brought back some _very _fond memories."

"Yes, and perhaps dragons will soar the skies once more." She muttered, mildly irritated as she fought a blush and made her way to the window. Her stormy eyes examined the courtyard below. A smile gracing her pale complexion as she watched the children chase one another among the flowers.

"Perhaps they will…and perhaps you think too little of me." There was an odd sincerity in his tone. Something that caused her to question if she had been too brash in her assumptions. Although, one could not be blamed for believing that a kindness shown by a Lannister was nothing more than a petty manipulation. The afternoon sun highlighted her black-as-night hair as she allowed her eyes to wander back to him. The man studied her intently. It was rare that he spent any time in the company of a woman that was not his sister. And even rarer to find someone that seemed to find the beauty in the smallest of things. He noted that in not only the way she spoke, but in the way she treated others - predominantly his brother. Many in the capital valued physical beauty but the Baratheon in front of him appeared to see right through any façade and was drawn purely to the soul of another. Jaime admired that about her.

"It was reckless." She hissed, going to him. "If anyone were to find out…"

"You worry too much."

"You swore an oath."

"Kingslayer! Get in here!" Her brother's yelling from the opposite side of the door fell on deaf ears as the pair considered one another.

The corner of Jaime's mouth quirked at the hint of a smile yet his eyes told an entirely different story. "Yes, you remind me of it every time." His tone matched the tale that emerald told, earning a sigh of regret from the young doe. Her fingertips grazed his hand with extreme caution.

"Kingslayer! I haven't got all bleeding day!"

A flash of mixed emotion marked already scarred eyes at the use of the alias. Noting this, Rhaelle murmured: "At least _you _are not fat." A smile brightened her stare as the man chuckled.

Leaning ever closer for fear of being heard, the knight whispered: "Meet me tonight."

"I shouldn't."

"Since when has that ever stopped you?" As the man with the golden hair and the mesmerising smile disappeared into her brother's chambers, the Baratheon knew that she was in a world of trouble. Swimming in an unforgiving tidal wave with a lung full of water and no sign of safety. And yet, she had believed from a young age that the storms controlled her story (her birth, and the loss of her parents to name a few), that she had been built to weather whatever dice the thunder and lightening rolled.

* * *

She should not have been there. She knew that. Every sliver of logic in her body knew that. And yet, the tiny fraction of her heart that had been poisoned seemed to win over all else. Each and every time. The tiny fraction that had been stolen by none other than Jaime Lannister. When his self-righteous and vain mannerisms were not frustrating her, Rhaelle found herself craving his company. In truth, they had found each other fascinating from the moment that they had laid eyes on one another. The lion proving to be like no man she had ever met; the doe entirely unlike the only woman that he had ever loved. She viewed the world in ways that both confused and captivated him; viewed him in a way that no one else did, perhaps not even Cersei. Seemingly immune to his charms and false gallantry, the youngest Baratheon had learned exactly the type of person he was. The selfish and care-free nature, the way in which he would allow his heart to rule him, angering quickly and acting without thought. Whether it was love or infatuation, neither knew but whatever it was, she knew exactly who he was and she still felt it.

It was entirely accidental. A bond set up only to be wrenched apart and end in heartache. A bond forged against the warnings of each of their brothers. The forbidden fruit.

_"You appear to be in a most dangerous place." Tyrion's words drew her gaze from the rose that lay across her lap. Her fingertips toying with the red petals. "My brother has been seen in your presence more and more over the last weeks, and rumours have started to fly. And to give his favour to you…" The dwarf paused as he searched for any overly keen ears. Unsure, he lowered his voice until it was barely audible. "With Jaime's attention comes our sister's jealousy. If there is one place in the entire Seven Kingdoms that you would not like to be, it is at the centre of her rage. Lose my brother's interest." Desperation oozed from the Queen's youngest brother as he noted the smile that toyed at his companion's lips; a silent interaction passing between her eyes and those of his brother whom had just dismounted his steed, victorious in the joust. "Rhaelle, listen to me. There is an inherit fire within you. I do not want to see Cersei extinguish it."_

A hand on her shoulder startled her as she spun around in the darkness, eyes adjusting as they sought out the figure in front of her. Sighing in relief, she relaxed: "You scared me."

"Did anyone see you?"

"No, I was careful. You?"

The man tilted his head and raised a golden brow as if it were entirely ridiculous that anyone should question his ability. She rolled her eyes before shoving his chest. Catching her hands in much stronger ones, the knight backed her against the wall of the Red Keep cellars; lips finding hers and hands moving to cradle her jawline. Fierce at first before melting into a firm gentleness.

Placing one last lingering kiss at the lobe of her ear, Jaime pulled back and rested his forehead against hers; catching his breath. Deep scarlet cheeks evident against her complexion even in the darkest of corners. Gingerly, his fingers swept loose hairs from her face.

Finally he spoke, his voice low and as cautious as it had ever been; almost as if he feared the dragon skulls would suddenly come alive and tell the world their little secret. "I will never betray you." He swore, "There is nothing that I can offer you, but I swear that to you. With every ounce of my honour."

She answered him with a kiss. Soft and lingering.

She knew that he would never be hers, and she would never be his. She knew that his sister's hold on him ran deeper than any ocean. She knew that he had forsaken any love in his life by joining the King's guard upon the queen's demand; saving himself from an arranged marriage, and herself from the loneliness of King's Landing without her twin. Without the only person that she could control no matter the circumstance. Rhaelle knew of the wrath that resulted from Cersei's jealousy. Of course she knew. She knew that she was playing with fire and she allowed herself to fall for him anyway. And that simple fact would change the course of her life forever.

For no one can walk through fire and return unburnt.


	4. Chapter 4

CHAPTER III

__The air had a distinct chill to it. Colder than she had ever felt. Her breath huddled for warmth in a puff of steam in front of her face. Her nightgown fluttered in the breeze, drawing her gaze downwards. Bare feet frozen against icy undergrowth. The howling of wolves surrounded her, hidden amongst the trees, sending a shiver down her spine. As the howling grew louder, a twig snapped behind her. Her hair whipping her face as she spun around, sea-green widening as it landed on a dark heap just down the path. Snow fell heavily, shielding her view and pushing her to move closer; a gentle frown contorting her brow as she stared down at the body of a large stag with an engorged stomach, its antler thrust through the skull of the wolf beside it. Confusion clouded her. The trample of hooves crunching the forest floor brought her attention to two more stags; one beautiful and shining in the snow, the other scarred and battle weary. As human screams pierced the winter air, the animals fell to the ground; blood pooling around them. Leaping backwards in fright, the young woman noted the warmth of the snow as it suddenly felt heavy as it pelted her. Looking up, she noticed the snow was no longer snow. It was blood. Pouring scarlet from the sky and staining everything in its path. It burned her eyes, slamming them shut as a bloodied hand reached up to blindly wipe them. Her heart hammered in her chest as she rubbed her eyes frantically, stumbling backwards until her foot hit something furry; gravity doing its work and dragging her to the blood-stained ground. As her vision cleared, she scrambled away from the mass that tripped her. Another grey wolf with an arrow embedded in its chest. Beside it, two wolf pups with tiny antlers behind their ears.__

The ringing of bells erupted, relieving her from the torment of her mind as she jolted upright in her bed. Eyes watered with hot tears as she experienced a foreign grief, wallowing briefly before bolting from her bed and throwing on the first gown that she could lay her hands on. News of Jon Arryn's sudden death spread through the capital like wildfyre. And despite a slight twinge of regret for the man, nothing stopped the youngest Baratheon as she all but ran towards the only man alive that had ever made her feel safe.

Forgetting her manners, Rhaelle entered her brother's chambers without pausing to knock. Her heart racing as she rushed through laboured breath: "Stannis, I…" Trailing off as her widened gaze landed on the piled chests brimmed with his belongings, she frowned. "Where are you going?"

"Dragonstone." Her brother's hardened stare remained on a piece of parchment in his hand. Leaving her intrusion unacknowledged.

"Why?" Her nose wrinkled briefly before she interrupted his answer, "Take me with you."

Finally, the ageing stag raised his stare to look at his sister. Shaking his head in despair, he sighed: "You are to ride North with -"

"No!" Grabbing his brother's arm as he tried to pass her, Rhaelle tugged at his sleeve. "Brother, you do not understand! I had a terrible dream. Dead stags everywhere and…and wolves." The fear in her eyes struck him, her grip unyielding. "I beg of you, take me with you to Dragonstone. Do not leave me."

"Rhaelle, stop this. I have tried but despite all I have done for him, our brother does not want my council." As she opened her mouth to retort, he held up a hand. Obediently, she pursed her lips and waited for him to continue. "You are to ride north."

"You are not listening! Something terrible is going to happen!"

Her temper flared as she released him from her grip. Her pale cheeks reddening and growing warm from the fire in her eyes. Entirely accustomed to her fury, the older man simply reached for the parchment on his desk and fixed her with a steady stare: "Do you remember what I told you about duty?" His question caused her to frown. She wasn't sure why it was relevant, nor why he was asking her as if she were a child. A rough sigh flared his nostrils as he handed her the parchment; calloused hands running over his face as she took it cautiously.

The silence was heavy as the man waited in anticipation, his jaw clenched as he witnessed the grief that melted her expression. Betrayal evident as she finally looked up at him.

"You did this?" She asked, through gritted teeth. Fighting with all her might to contain the wrath that manifested in the disappointment that sunk her heart. If there was one thing in the world that Rhaelle believed that she could not handle, it was a betrayal at the hands of Stannis Baratheon. At the hands of the one person that she loved unconditionally, trusted unconditionally.

"No. My opinion meant nothing." Stannis despised his elder brother in that moment more than most. He had been the one to raise her, to protect her and ensure that she lived through the Siege of Storm's End. He had taught her to defend herself, introduced her to potential suitors, and watched as she grew from a child into a strong-willed young woman. He had gained her trust and earned her affection. Robert had been chasing a woman that he barely knew and a throne that he no longer wanted. Whilst the King was legally their sister's keeper, he did not deserve to decide her fate nor her happiness. He did not even know her favourite colour nor the type of cake that she avoided due to a petty grudge from her seventh name day. Stannis watched as her lip quivered lightly causing her to clench her jaw and look away from him; anger bubbling beneath her skin. Her eyes darkened and her fist crumpled the parchment. Gently, he placed a hand on his youngest sibling's shoulder and commanded her attention. "Look at me. I do not think that this was our brother's idea. And if I am correct then you are far safer in the North."

"Please, do not make me do this."

Her pleading tone matched that of the desperation in her eyes as she looked up at him. Once more reminding him of the little girl that used to follow him around Storm's End nattering about whatever had been important to her that day.

"I would send you across the Narrow Sea if it meant that you were safe." His strained smile showed more affection that the brightest of grins from the happiest of people. Cradling her cheek, he continued: "I need you to trust that I know what is best for you. Winterfell is the best option. It appeases the King…and the Queen." Standing to his full height, Stannis stepped away from her, holding her stare. "I know about Jaime Lannister. It was a childish infatuation with the first man you have known away from Storm's End. It happened much too quickly and was not meant to last. Put an end to it. You may think that it's love…"

"I know that it is not. I am not a child."

"No, you are not."

Rhaelle's gaze dropped to her hands as she acknowledged the fear that had begun to manifest in the darkest corners of her mind since the moment she had awoken. Mumbling, she toyed at her fingers: "What if I never see you again?" Her words were merely a whisper, as if they would ring true if spoken too loudly. "My dream…"

"If it comes to pass then it comes to pass. I must leave for Dragonstone. There is no position for me here." Rhaelle had often heard contempt in her brother's tone whilst referencing the King, but she had never truly considered the insult that he had felt at being refused the position of Hand of the King in the wake of Jon Arryn's death. His voice drew her attention as she studied him closely, weariness darkening his eyes. "You will do your duty to our house and you will be out of Robert's grasp. That is all I can hope for you at this moment. There is a war coming and I do not want you to end up as collateral."

"I don't want you to go."

"I know."

The second oldest stag stumbled as the young doe pounced on him, squeezing him tightly into a hug. "I am going to miss you." She choked, her eyes welling up at the thought of parting with the one person she would be helpless without. "I love you."

As he pulled away, a rough thumb wiped her tears. A strained smile tugged at his stern lips as he muttered: "And I, you." before placing a kiss on her forehead. "I must take my leave now."

Instinctively, Rhaelle clutched at his arm; a childlike habit that she had yet to grow out of. His grasp was protective and comforting as he gently removed her hand from him and exited his chambers without pausing to glance back to her. Her hand covered her mouth as she choked back a sob. Tear-clouded eyes watching as her brother abandoned her. As he disappeared from her sight, the doe roughly wiped her tears with the sleeve of her dress before she steeling herself. It was time to grow up. Contemplating her near future, her expression darkened to one of sheer anger. Her nails digging into the palm of her hand as she clenched her fist, visualised her target, and stormed deeper into the Red Keep.

* * *

The wooden door splintered as it slammed against the wall. The air in the room suddenly growing static, the flagstone floor quaking. Her eyes as dark as the seas during the storm in which she was born. A tsunami stare trained on the eldest stag.

"Leave us." Her voice was thick with a dam of emotion cracking under the pressure.

Her brother's blue gaze considered her before he sighed and waved a hand to his wife, knights and advisors: "You heard her, everyone out."

The members at court trickled out slowly, concerned emerald eyes casting the young doe a questioning frown before following the other half of himself as he was left unacknowledged. Her teeth ground heavily against each other. Her nostrils flared and her jaw tensed. Every ounce of self-control maintaining the dam that protected the world around her. However, as the heavy door slammed, the waves came crashing through. Tearing at everything in their path.

"There is no way in Seven Hells that you are dragging me up North and abandoning me there!" Her voice boomed through the hall, ricocheting off every surface; leaving the vast columns trembling in her wake. No wall thick enough to maintain the privacy of their conversation.

"Rhaelle."

"Robert." Stormy eyes were ablaze, like the breath of an enraged dragon. Piercing like the sharpest blade ever forged. "Stannis…"

At the mention of their brother, Robert's face reddened. Darker than freshly spilled blood. His fists clenched as the famed Baratheon temper bubbled to the surface causing him to spit in interruption: "Fuck Stannis. I'm the damned king!"

Fury battled fury. An endless war.

"__He __is my brother."

"I am your brother!"

"Perhaps by blood but you have never been there!" Her voice rose once more, shattering the silence with the violence of a thousand tornadoes. Pale cheeks reddening with a rage so intense that sweat began to bead at the base of her dark hairline. "You have __never __shown any concern for my well-being!"

The King's expression grew thunderous; matching the black leather armour on his chest. "I am your brother and you will do what I say and be damned happy about it!" As he raised his voice to match hers, the young woman did not shrink. For you do not thrive in a storm whilst fearing the thunder. "The marriage will secure the loyalty of the North in Ned's absence."

She stalked towards him, like a wolf hunting its prey. Pausing in front of him, the war table providing his only shield. "You overestimate __my __loyalty, __brother.__"

"Do not threaten me, girl."

"I am not marrying the Stark boy." The tendon in her jaw flinched as she spoke through gritted teeth; her tone low and deliberate as she prodded an index finger against the table. Her gaze impaled him. "If you leave me there, I will run and I will not stop running."

"Then you had better have someone make you a pair of warmer shoes. I don't think those'd last against the snow." As her eldest brother laughed, anger bubbled over and in one swift motion, the figures atop the map were sent crashing against the opposite wall. A dark brow rose, sapphire examining her as she crossed her arms and flared her nostrils; her chest rising and falling rapidly as she fought with her own fury. "Oh lighten up. You really are beginning to look like Stannis." Holding out a goblet, he offered her wine. A peace offering. "You never know, you might like the young wolf."

The truce remained unobtainable as his sister stared down at him. The stag's resolve unfaltering as she leaned closer to him and whispered darkly: "I wont forgive you for this. I swear it." And anyone who was anyone knew that Rhaelle Baratheon had never broken a verbal vow. Not once.

As she exited the room, eavesdroppers pretended to be busy; many suddenly running down the corridor in feigned urgency. Others shrinking under her glower. With the loss of one brother and the self-banishing of another, the young doe craved the comfort of her best friend. The only sibling who had yet to disappoint her.

"Fret not, little doe. I am sure the Stark boy will have just as much interest in dragon skulls." Upon hearing the words in the darkness of the empty corridor, Rhaelle paused. All expression melting from her face as she realised who had planted the idea in her boorish brother's mind. Turning slowly, she met a smirk of painted pink lips. Golden threads weaved into an intricate hairstyle, and amused emerald eyes identical to those she often found, yet much much colder. Stepping closer to her, the Queen leant to whisper in the younger woman's ear as she froze in her place. "Smile. A frown is so unbecoming."

* * *

Having spent the rest of the previous day in the company of the youngest of her brothers, Rhaelle had awoken curled up at the bottom of his bed; just as she often would during their childhood. It was a simple comfort but one that she very much needed in order to face the complete upheaval of her life.

As the duo stood by the convoy of horses, guards, and carriages, the raven-haired woman turned felt an impeding doom. She had always known that she would have to marry one day. Yet, this felt like she were being sold to the first bidder. To a younger man that she had never met, despite the months of courting from suitors closer to home. Suitors that Stannis himself had cultivated and approved of. And the young doe had always sought out his approval, not yet mature nor worldly enough to wander her own path. A direct result of the man's overprotective nature.

"Why must you stay here?" She finally spoke as the Queen and her children entered their carriage. Her eyes sought near identical ones as she questioned, "Why can't you travel with us and return with the King?" Renly smiled at his sister's choice of words. Electing to strip their eldest brother of any title relating to familial bond, or familiarity. Rhaelle had always been stubborn; never once apologising, and rarely allowing rational thought to infiltrate the cloud of emotion that allowed her heart to rule her.

"With Robert leaving, and Stannis off licking his wounds in Dragonstone, someone has to remain here with the Small Council." A sliver of a scowl threatened her pretty features before she chewed the inside of her cheek and eyed the final chest of belonging as the guards packed them tightly against the royal carriage; the very carriage that she had refused to travel in. "The Stark boy will love you."

She was unsure if her brother had truly meant that or if he was trying to comfort her, yet his words had done little to alleviate the nauseating churning at the pit of her stomach. Returning a gentle gaze to him, she muttered: "Somehow, I do not think that matters."

"It does to you."

"Come on, girl! Are you waiting for the damned wall to melt? Get on the horse!" Robert's voice boomed through the courtyard as he sat atop his mare, wheezing lightly. The poor creature earning sympathy from its rider's siblings.

Refusing to acknowledge the man, the young woman steeled her breath. Her fist clenching in contained anger, so tightly that it left welts on her palm as her nails buried themselves. Begging their brother for one more minute, Renly offered a crowd-appeasing smile before taking his sister's hands: "I will write to you." He promised, leaning closer to mutter: "Do try to avoid Robert whilst you are in this mood. As Master of Laws, I do not wish to have to witness my only sister beheaded for murdering our brother." The tiniest of smiles cracked her demeanor, highlighting the similarity between the two of them. "Now go. Win the North."

Oh how she would miss that signature smile.

* * *

Even her hair was itchy, itchier than the small thousand of bug bites that littered her skin from a month on the road. If she did not get a steaming hot bath soon, the young woman was going to scream. Never in her life had she travelled so long, and that, accompanied by the impending marriage suffocated her in the foulest of moods. Her usual rash temper fierier than the deepest depths of each of the Seven Hells. Tyrion's gaze scrutinized her as the pair trudged at the back of the pack. The youngest Lannister man having slowed his mare to match the reluctant speed of the Baratheon woman. Her eyes were darker than usual. Stormy, and trained coldly on the path ahead of her.

"Go on, then." The dwarf finally spoke, pulling her glare to him. "Who is at the top of the kill list?" Upon receiving no response, and refusing to allow her to stew any longer, Tyrion continued. "Let me guess: the King for bringing you to the capital, my sister for pushing this marriage, and then Joffrey…" Rhaelle's brow crinkled at the mention of their nephew. Unsure why he had been included. "…for being an insufferable little prick." Pink lips quirked despite themselves. "So. What do you imagine the wolf pup to be like?"

"Robert will tell me nothing of him." She shrugged, the motion adjusting the deep emerald cloak around her shoulders. Her throat dry from her stubborn lack of speech. "It is as if he cares not for my happiness."

"What gave that away? Tell me, how was it spending the beginning of your childhood under siege?"

"Please, continue. You really are alleviating my sour mood."

The small man threw his head back as he chuckled heartily, earning a gentle and unintentional laugh from the younger woman. Holding out a waterskin filled with wine, he ordered: "Drink. Everything is better with __a lot __of wine."

Rhaelle shook her head, lightly navigating her snow white mare: "I shouldn't. We ought to be arriving soon."

"Suit yourself." Sea green eyes slyly watched as he drank then settled himself, sighing loudly in exaggerated relaxation; somehow making horseback look like the most comfortable place in the world. As predicted, the doe huffed and reached over to snatch the water-skin from him. A large grin spreading across his face as she took a long swig; a wince contorting her expression as the alcohol burned her throat. "Oh, would you look at that? It seems that you __are __related to our king." Scowling at the mention of the King, Rhaelle threw the waterskin back at him, causing him to wobble slightly as he caught it. The unlikely pair continued to converse as the vast fields grew sparse and modest houses clouded the path in front of them. The tallest roof of the famed Winterfell just visible on the horizon. Drawing nearer still, the half-man brought his horse to a stop and steered towards another path to his left. "Ah, this is my stop."

"What?"

"I hear that the northern girls are something else entirely…" His smirk twisted his expression as the young woman's eyes widened.

"You cannot just abandon me with these…" She hissed, however the brown mare was already a good hundred meters away. Rhaelle sighed roughly, her gaze wandering back to the procession in front of her. "Great."

* * *

Blue eyes searched the royal party for the woman that his father had promised him to. Many knights, a large wooden carriage gilded in gold, the prince, and the King. The carriage door opened and out spilled many heads of yellow-gold hair; the Queen, her youngest children, and her ladies. Finally, a white horse rode through the gate; sapphire glued to the rider. A long dark green cloak masking curls as black as the furs belonging to a brother of the Night's Watch. As she dismounted with much more grace and ease than her brother had, the young woman shared a lingering glance with the Kingslayer. Her throat bobbing lightly as she swallowed heavily and took her place beside the Queen, her niece, and youngest nephew.

Myrcella tugged at her arm, excitedly: "There he is!" She whispered, emerald eyes glistening with a dewy-eyed expression as she looked up at her aunt. "He is so handsome, don't you agree?"

The youngest of the Baratheon siblings turned her attention to the little girl beside her, a genuine smile swiping across her chapped lips as she regarded her. For the first time, she allowed her gaze to flicker to their hosts. Sea green meeting ocean blue. The sun shone in the wolfling's dark hair, illuminating the deep Tully-red rooted within it. A gift from his mother. His eyes were also his mother's, and briefly reminded her of the colour of the sky above her ancestral home on the clearest of mornings. Warm and safe. The princess was right. He was handsome. Not in the way that Jaime was, and much younger, but in a more rougher sense of the word. A more honest sense. And yet, Rhaelle could not help but watch as the resentment she held towards her brother seeped out and infected her opinion; steeled her expression and hardened her eyes.

As the King beckoned her forward to greet their hosts ahead of his wife, the young doe pondered whether the action was an intentional insult or not. Robert had a habit of offending. However, knowing her place, Rhaelle performed a practiced curtsy at Cersei's feet: "My Queen." Her smile was false and yet the gesture was sincere enough. The Lannister woman considered her carefully before nodding in somewhat satisfaction and stepping forward in her place, despite the oafish grumbling of her husband.

True to nature, the Baratheon woman's political form abandoned her as she watched her brother's wife approach the Starks and wordlessly present her hand, waiting for Lord Eddard to kiss it. Her eyes rolled so heavily, the action was almost audible. However, her disdain soon slid from her face as her eyes were drawn to familiar emerald. The golden-haired lion smirked, eyes trailing her expression. Brilliant blue grew icy as they considered the silent interaction before the King once again demanded his sister's attention.

All eyes were on the doe as she stepped forward to the reception line, and paused in front of the Warden of the North. Dark curls shielded porcelain skin as she bowed her head in respect. His brown hair grazed his shoulders, a closely-trimmed beard speckled with grey shielding a long face.

"Rhaelle Baratheon." The man smiled kindly; dark grey eyes soft as they regarded her. "You've grown up."

"It has been a number of summers, My Lord. Thank you for your hospitality upon such short notice." One subtle side-glance towards Robert, immediately informed of the siblings' current relationship. Ned chuckled, earning a warm smile from the younger woman.

"Rhaelle, I would like to introduce my son. Robb." The hint of genuine bemusement slid from her face, instead being replaced by a restrained courtesy smile that more closely resembled a grimace. The drastic shift in her demeanour not unnoticed by the young Stark afore her.

Robb bowed his head, eyes never leaving her expression: "My Lady."

"It is a pleasure to meet you, My Lord." The strained politeness irked him; the subtle uncontrollable clench of her jaw, and the rehearsed political smile. The way her hands wrung themselves together. Her eyes were the colour of a storm torn ocean offering him nothing but a stare colder than the longest of winters. After the seconds that social courtesy required her to remain in his company had passed, the older woman moved to greet his siblings. A cerulean stare noting the way her shoulders instantly relaxed. Warmth returned to her as the doe shared a smile with Sansa, forcing a taut scowl onto the eldest Stark's face much to the bemusement of his father's ward.

* * *

It was near impossible to settle in the small chambers that she had been placed in, and relaxing grew harder still as Tommen and Myrcella had descended on her. Having finally been released from their mother's iron grip, and the stuffiness of a month in the carriages, the prince and princess had wanted to stretch their legs and get some fresh air.

Rhaelle often considered her relationship with her niece and nephew to be one of the only good things to come from her move to King's Landing, and so however reluctant she was, she found herself chasing after the siblings once they had eluded her and run off towards the stables. Myrcella's incessant chatter drew her attention. Sea green eyes landing on a tall dark-haired stranger whom smiled politely as the princess yapped his ear off.

"Myrcella, Tommen. Do not run off like that. Your mother would have me killed if anything happened to you." The Baratheon woman scolded before turning to the man. "I am terribly sorry, My Lord…"

"I am not a lord, My Lady." His northern accent was as thick as the midnight black curls atop his head. "Jon Snow."

"It is a pleasure to meet you, Jon. Rhaelle." She smiled warmly at him before a cold wind ruffled her cloak forcing it to wobble as she shivered. "Is it always so cold up here?"

"I'm afraid it's only going to get colder. Winter…"

"Is coming." The raven-haired woman interrupted. "Yes, I believe someone rather important said that at some point in history." Jon laughed, dark eyes shining as the King's sister grinned brightly at him. Tommen's squealing snapped her attention to where the children had begun chasing each other. As she considered them, Rhaelle smiled fondly. "It is refreshing to see them acting like children for once."

"It must be a lot different in King's Landing."

"Yes. I hate it there." Her laugh was humourless, more of a defence mechanism than anything. "Even after all these months, I still wish I had never left Storm's End."

"Wasn't it lonely without your brothers?"

"Sometimes. But in the capital, you can be surrounded by people and still feel entirely alone."

"I know what you mean…"

As Rhaelle pulled her stare from the children, she considered the man beside her. There was a solemn sadness that hung around him much like the cloak that weighted her own shoulders. In that moment, she felt akin to the Northern bastard, and that was an unfamiliar feeling; for it was not often that the noble woman came across someone who could perfectly relate to the profound loneliness captured in the busiest of crowds. It was a notion that came with the territory. Everybody had an agenda of some sort. Everybody wanted something from everyone.

Speaking of, her attention was soon drawn to the eldest Stark boy and Lord Eddard's ward, Theon Greyjoy, as they crossed the grounds and began to approach. Jon smiled slightly as the woman to his left grumbled a profanity under her breath before calling to her brother's children: "Tommen! Myrcella! Come now." Obediently, the children rushed back to their aunt. The little boy sliding his ice-cold hand into hers, puffing breathlessly; his cheeks red from the northern wind. As Robb arrived by his brother's side, Rhaelle focussed entirely on dark eyes. "It was pleasure to meet you, Jon."

"The pleasure was all mine."

Her smile was warm and effortlessly kind; lacking any falsity, "I hope to see you around."

Theon bit back a laugh as the woman merely nodded once in acknowledgement to his friend before disappearing back to the keep. Finally, the hilarity of the situation was too much for the boy and he erupted with laughter: "How does it feel to know that the girl you're going to marry much prefers your bastard brother?"

* * *

The stone floors were etched from years of traffic, and cold, even through her shoes. After a long bath in water so hot that the older woman attending to her had muttered a grumble of complaint, the youngest Baratheon finally felt human once more. And in a decidedly better humour. However, nothing could alleviate the heavy feeling in her chest as she was forced to sit by Robb Stark at the feast. It were as if icy hands grew up from the stony floors, clutching her tightly and yanking her downwards. Subconsciously, she picked at an insect bite that nagged her left forearm. Her brother's laughter boomed through the crowd, earning a dark scowl. If Rhaelle had not resented him already, she did the moment he had placed her at the table with a group of children.

Blue eyes pierced her momentarily, considering her carefully before averting as she tried to catch them. A gentle sigh threatened to part her lips before her gaze snapped back to the table. The eldest Stark girl whispered animatedly to her friend, exchanging glances with Joffrey who sat to the right of his aunt; the prince occasionally sporting a similar look of disdain. The children around the newly betrothed pair chattered incessantly, their laughter doing nothing to dissuade the frostiness between them. Rhaelle stabbed her fork into a potato, over and over again as she imagined Robert's smug expression. Once the vegetable was well and truly decimated, she stole another glance at the young wolf. His gaze was trained to his goblet, and his jaw remained tensed despite the smiles and sparing conversation that he passed to Theon Greyjoy. The doe swallowed a sigh, allowing her eyes to wander and lock with attentive emerald. Her heart hammered loudly as she considered the Lion who simply nodded and offered a dazzling smile. How she hated that smile. The one that forced her naive heart to override her stubbornness. She would grow out of it. She had to.

Finally, having suffered the silence enough, she wordlessly slid out of her seat - unwilling to glance back to the Stark boy with the hope that he had lifted his head. As she pushed her way through the crowd, her mind raced with excuses to leave. Excuses to retreat to her tiny little room at the far end of the tiny little castle, and remain there in solitude. Though, from how the evening was going, her wish would be at her husband's command as soon as the royal party returned to the south.

"You appear to be having as much fun as I am."

The familiar northern accent caused her to stop in her tracks, her head dipping lightly with regret as she faced the man and pleaded, "Forgive me, My Lord. Please do not think that my disdain has anything to do with your son or your hospitality." The words tumbled out of her mouth for the young woman knew the wrath that would face her should she offend anyone. "It is entirely aimed at my boar of a brother." Her face contorted to a scowl; a reflex - almost like a terribly unfortunate allergy.

"I see that you haven't lost that famed Baratheon temper." Ned's chuckle was warm and earned a smile, however brief.

Rhaelle swirled the wine in her goblet, a sour taste in her mouth as she spoke the words that plagued her mind: "This marriage is Cersei's doing. She gets whatever she wants and Robert is too drunk to see it." Sea green observed the solemn man's expression. She considered her next words carefully. "You too look troubled, my Lord. I know that you were asked to be Hand of the King." Dark eyes studied her as she glanced over her shoulder. A habit adopted due to the sheer number of spies that lurked in the capital. "I implore you not to take the position lightly." Her words were slow and deliberate, as if carefully constructed for lasting effect. "Robert has failed to inspire love from my brothers and I, and his selfish nature is beginning to affect his relationship with his children. His enemies are growing by the day, the main one being the lion in his bed. If you make an enemy of her, she will see that you disappear. One way or another. And what's more, the King truly believes he is honouring you with Joffrey and I…"

"If you are anything like the child I remember, the north would suit you."

The youngest Baratheon allowed her eyes to wander to Robb. Her thoughts returning to her brother as she whispered: "I do not want to end up in a marriage like Stannis'." It was true that she adored her brother with all of her heart, yet that same heart ached as she considered his wife; full of grief and hidden away with the remains of their failed heirs. The remains of the sons that the proud man had been so desperate for. Rhaelle could not do it. Despite all her promises, she truly believed that if it came to it, she was too weak to do what Stannis had. To remain in a loveless world bound only by a fierce loyalty to duty and duty alone. She simply was not strong enough and that terrified her.

"Robb would be a kind and honourable husband."

A gentle smile twisted her pale lips as she complimented the kind man: "If he is anything like his father then I have no doubt." However, as her eyes refused to sparkle with false happiness, the young woman sighed and run her finger along the edge of the goblet in her hand. "Tell me, what did he have to say about the arrangement?"

As the doors opened and a newly arrived guest demanded Lord Stark's attention, the man turned to her with a comforting smile; his hand clasping her shoulder in a fatherly manner as he suggested: "Why don't you ask him?" Before bidding her farewell and heading to greet his guest.

_Be it stubborn pride or simple resentment, asking Robb Stark for his opinion was the last thing that Rhaelle Baratheon was willing to do._


	5. Chapter 5

CHAPTER IV

Her cheeks puffed lightly as she sighed once more, swirling the last of her wine around in her goblet. The Stark children had been limited to one goblet by their father but, fortunately for the woeful young woman, her brother cared not. He never cared. Standing off to the side of the warm hall, she allowed her gaze to land on Robb. The corner of his sapphire eyes crinkled as he laughed brightly, his attention drawn to another lady. It was the first time that the wolf had looked happy all day. Rhaelle recognised the young woman as someone that she had been introduced to. Someone whose name she cared not to remember; an unfortunate habit that one develops when forced into the company of many lords and their many children. The tendon at her temple flickered against her raven hairline as she watched the man to whom she'd been betrothed. A dark scowl contorting her expression as the woman stroked him arm. The young Baratheon cleared her throat and scratched the back of her neck sheepishly as she grew aware of the unexpected feeling; in theory she ought to have been happy that his attention was elsewhere, although in reality she cursed herself for cutting off her nose to spite her face; for her self-destructive impulses.

"You have not spoken to your _beloved._" His tone was bitter with forced teasing as he drew her attention,"Perhaps, your mind is with another."

Rhaelle rolled her eyes as the Lannister man smirked: "_Please. _You will be kissing another by the morning." Her lips twisted lightly, a false smile barely reaching her eyes.

"You do not know me at all." Jaime scoffed lightly, mockingly.

"I know that you only truly feel alive when you are fighting, and that you mourn the boy that you used to be but you cannot recall the exact moment that you lost him. Be it when you first fastened that white cloak to your shoulders, or when you earned that 'unfortunate nickname'…shall I continue?" A thin dark brow peaked in challenge as she countered him, her gaze finally landing on him.

"You remember that." Emerald widened momentarily in surprise as she repeated the things that he had told her. Repeated a conversation that they had one afternoon that her brother had charged him to protect her when she had demanded to go riding. She had only been in the capital a couple of weeks and was already feeling suffocated. They had stopped at a stream and just sat there, talking. It was the first time that he had really looked at her. Looked past the beauty. It was also the first time that she truly understood who he was. He was never just a handsome knight with golden hair and piercing eyes. He was a broken man that hid the cracks behind a dazzling smile. A tormented heart too used to following orders.

Rhaelle smiled regretfully: "I remember everything. It was not just stolen kisses. Regardless of what anyone else thinks." As she spoke she recalled her brother's words. _It happened much too quickly. _And perhaps it did, to those who only saw the surface. Only saw the moments that were against the rules placed upon them. There was a physical attraction, of course there was, but beneath that was a twisted soul. One that had been broken over and over again, moulded and pulled in so many different directions that it no longer recognised itself. And it was that part of him. The depth of character, the good within him that was very much there despite the layers and layers of false self-confidence and cruelty plastered on top. That part of him that had earned the affections of the naive young woman suffocated in over-protection. Because to Rhaelle Baratheon, Jaime Lannister was so much more than a pretty face; he was complex, near impossible to fully understand, at times distant, and completely and utterly devoted to his sister. At that sobering thought, Rhaelle looked down and swallowed heavily. A gentle laugh fought the lingering sadness: "This was not how I imagined this conversation would go."

"Ah, so you admit you were thinking of me." Jaime smiled slightly, but it soon fell as she met his gaze. He held her there for a moment longer before pulling his attention to his empty goblet. "I need more wine." His signature smirk spread slowly across his cheeks, "Would you look at that, as your parting gift you have turned me into your brother."

"At least you aren't fat." The words were barely a whisper whilst she fought a tidal wave of emotion. As they shared a rueful smile, Jaime's gaze fell to someone over Rhaelle's left shoulder.

"I ought to go. People are starting to stare." He muttered, before grabbing the jug of wine from a passing cup-bearer and returning to his sister's side.

Guilt became a friend as it twisted in her stomach. Icy aquamarine bore a hole into the side of her face as her attention lingered on the retreating man. Suddenly, the walls seemed to close in on her. The room growing smaller by the second; the heat rising like a tidal wave. The weight of her position hit her like a freight train. She was entirely alone, and it was entirely her own fault. Her dress constricted around her, suffocating her. Her skin prickled and her hands grew cold as her lungs heaved. Her heart pounded in her ears and sea-green glistened with salty waves, forcing her to push towards the exit.

As she neared her escape, a pudgy hand gripped her arm and pulled her toward a small group that had congregated whilst her attention was elsewhere. Cool blue still holding her as she paused across from him; noting the tears that she banished as she instructed her brother to release her.

"Alright, don't weep about." The king laughed as he removed his hand from her arm. His breath reeking of stale ale as it battered her. Disgust twisted her pale pink lips until she locked it away and smiled dutifully. "So go on, what do you think?" Robert swayed drunkenly, clasping his fat hands on Robb's shoulders as he gestured to his only sister. Sea green trailed up towards the eldest son of her brother's best friend. Her breath hitched in her throat as she predicted what would come next. "Go on, be honest. Could you see yourself between those legs?"

It were as if all air had been sucked from the room as the King's words hung around the small group. Robb's gaze immediately landed on the woman in front of him as stormy eyes pierced her eldest sibling. A deep scarlet burning her pale complexion as perfectly trimmed nails dug deep into the palms on her hands.

"Your sister, I'm sure, is very intelligent. She knows her own mind, and I look forward to getting to know her." Ned smiled at his son's response, nodding in approval. However, his pride had gone unnoticed by the Stark with Tully fire in his curls. Cerulean captured the way her expression melted, the parting of her lips, and the calming of the storm. It were as if she were looking at him for the first time. Swallowing, Rhaelle frowned lightly; his words had surprised her, and so, as Robb extended his hand to her and asked: "Walk with me?" she politely obliged.

The cold air sobered her slightly; grounding her with every calming breath. As the door creaked behind them and a gust of wind sent a shiver down her spine, the young doe grew aware of the warmth of his hand. Embarrassed, she cleared her throat and stepped away from him. Forcing her gaze forward, she clutched the railing overlooking the modest castle grounds. A heavy silence hung thickly in the air.

"I do not need you to protect me. Especially from Robert." Her voice was gentle as she finally spoke. Disdain tainting her brother's name as an expression of hatred scarred her. However, as her gaze met his, her expression softened - perhaps for the first time since they had met. "But thank you. You'll never know how much that meant."

"I only spoke the truth." Robb replied, joining her by the railing.

A sigh parted her lips as she looked out over the small training area. "I owe you an apology." She muttered, reluctantly. "I fear that I have not been the most…gracious since we met. I let my temper get the best of me and I have left a terrible impression." Biting back another sigh, she turned her gaze to her companion. Cerulean trained to the practise dummies below; auburn curls appearing much darker in the torchlight. She pulled her attention to the stables as she muttered: "I suppose I thought that if I did not bother to know you, I would not be disappointed."

"You may have been pleasantly surprised." The wolf spared her a glance out of the corner of his eye. He could not figure her out, though one thing was certain: "You have a low opinion of me."

"I do not know you." As he met her stare, he held it for a moment. A stormy sea meeting one from a warm summer's day.

"No, you do not."

"I do not apologise very often, I am not very good at it." Rhaelle sighed in slight defeat, pulling her bottom lip between her teeth as her shoulders shrugged lightly: "But I have been unfair to you and it turns out that I do not like being ignored, so…you win."

"No, it isn't very nice, is it?" Baby blue met sea green. A hint of a smile softened the pierce of his stare. He was a few inches taller than her, and more muscular than she had assumed. And a jaw that could shear rock. Less of a boy than she had accused.

"Either way." Each word was deliberated; carefully crafted. "I may have been rather rude…and slightly immature."

"Only slightly?"

Her jaw slackened in annoyance. Entirely unused to having to work for forgiveness, the young doe was forced to swallow her pride, however hard it was. Unsure what else she could possibly do, the Baratheon continued to grovel. She had to make_ something _right: "And I am sorry for not giving you a chance."

"No, that would require you to actually acknowledge me, and Gods forbid _that_."

Sighing roughly through her nose, she looked to the stars above. She had many flaws, but just like her brothers, she did not like being called out on them. Grinding her teeth, she turned a stony stare to the younger man beside her; ready to give him a piece of her mind. However, as he met her irritated expression, her eyes flickered to his lips and noted the slight quirk at the right corner. Aquamarine glistened in amusement.

Rhaelle's brow crinkled in the centre as she asked, mildly perplexed: "Are you laughing at me?"

The Stark finally chuckled as the woman crossed her arms: "I'm sorry, does the Lady not like being teased?" His gaze remained on her delicate features as she scoffed and looked away from him, a sliver of a smile cracking her expression in the moonlight. "My mother scolded me rather heavily for talking to Alys Karstark tonight. _She _believes that I should have spent the entire night by _your _side." As the Baratheon scrunched up her nose, Robb grinned. Perhaps he too had been wrong. Perhaps there was potential there.

As the raven-haired woman's expression darkened, she spoke once more: "My brother's behaviour tonight…."

"Is not yours to apologise for."

"He has just invaded your home and dictated your future."

"He's the king"

"He's a boar." Her response caught him off-guard, earning a gentle laugh. Her candidness momentarily reminding him of his youngest sister. After a brief silence, Rhaelle shook her head and muttered: "He is so determined to keep the North that he has pushed for this marriage. He believes he is honouring your House but he has not once considered how anyone else feels."

As she toyed with the sleeve of her dress, he glanced to her and asked: "How do you feel?" Even though the answer was already rather apparent.

"Like it does not matter how I feel."

"I know the feeling." Robb had always known that this day would come but he had hoped to hold it off a little longer. Had hoped that when it did arrive, he would not inherit Winterfell on the same day; that his father would be there to guide him. Everything was about to change. In a matter of days, he would have a wife, and his father would be Hand of the King and ride South, leaving the North under his protection. In the silence, Rhaelle considered his words and felt foolish for not once entertaining the idea that Robb would relate to her. _Of course he would._ In all her selfishness and resentment towards the King, the doe had failed to realise that this union was not what the wolf beside her wanted either. "How are you finding Winterfell?" His voice pulled her from her thoughts, allowing the crease on her brow to smooth.

"It is beautiful." She complimented. "But I hate the cold. No matter how high my handmaiden stokes my fire, I cannot seem to get warm."

"You'll get used to it."

"I have no choice but to." As the words tumbled out of her mouth, the brunette cringed at her bitter tone. Toying with her fingers, she glanced to the younger man, suddenly self-conscious. "I am sorry. You must think me as nothing more than spoiled."

Robb tilted his head in feigned thought as he counted on his fingers: "Spoiled…Colder than the coldest of winters…childish…"

"Feel free to stop whenever you like." As she commanded him, she raised an unimpressed brow, earning a laugh. The wolf's eyes sparkled in jest as he looked to her. A gentle ghost of a smile alerting him to the dimples in her cheeks. Uncharacteristically, the doe retreated first. Averted her gaze and looking back to her hands where they knotted in front of her. The cold northern wind sent a shiver through her spine.

"Come on, lets get you inside before you freeze to death." Robb suggested, holding his arm out to her. "I don't think my father would appreciate the charges of treason." Rhaelle smiled as she politely took his arm; finding his naivety rather sweet. _Robert would never care that much for one of his siblings. _As they re-entered the hall, the heat slammed into them like an invisible wall. Tully-blue eyes scanned the room before landing on his father conversing with a slightly younger man with sharp features and laughing eyes, clad entirely in black. "If you'll excuse me, I should greet my uncle."

Rhaelle nodded once as the young wolf turned his gaze to her, suddenly fully aware of another set of sapphire eyes as they scrutinized every interaction between them. Recalling Robb's previous words, the Baratheon woman placed a gentle kiss against his cheek. His auburn curls tickling her face as she slowly pulled away, muttering: "For your mother." The Stark grinned, his cheeks a soft tinge of pink as his gaze wandered to Lady Catelyn as she sat watching them with a satisfied smile.

Before Robb had the chance to open his mouth, the older girl gently slid from his arm and returned to her seat at the table. He allowed himself a moment to consider her retreating form, before turning on his heel and approaching Benjen Stark.

The King's sister smiled and participated in light conversation with Sansa Stark and her friend, Jeyne Poole. The young girls seemingly fascinated by life in King's Landing…and her eldest nephew. There was only so much that Rhaelle could say about Joffrey. Only so many positive things. Soon, a voice rang out from behind her: "Most of the young women that I know would love a northern man. And a Stark nonetheless." As the man plonked himself down on the seat beside her, his legs swinging, he took a large swig from his cup. "That makes you very lucky…apparently."

"Most of the young women that you know work in a brothel."

"Touché." The dwarf smirked as he drained the final droplets of wine from his goblet before holding it out for a servant to refill. "Have you stopped acting like Joffrey yet?"

"Perhaps, I was a little harsh in my judgements." As she muttered a rebuttal, Tyrion snorted in amusement; swaying slightly from inebriation before nattering on about a woman named Ros. However, the doe's attention waned and she soon found her gaze lingering on the trio of Stark men. The youngest of the three caught her with a warm ocean stare, before nodding lighting towards her. A gentle smile tweaked her lips.

"Gods be good!" The half-man exclaimed, causing Rhaelle to jump slightly and stare at him in alarm. "Was that a blush?"

"Don't be ridiculous!" She scoffed defensively, flabbergasted by the notion. "It is the wine. Nothing more."

* * *

A sharp inhale of breath rattled her lungs as she woke with a start. Her slender fingers clutching tightly to the furs that surrounded her. Wild eyes darted to the fireplace, hot embers still glowing brightly as the first signs of sunrise crept through the shutters that shielded the small room from the northern wind. A chill ran down her spine causing her to quiver as her mind dwelled on the nightmare that had haunted her dreams since she left King's Landing. The snow; brilliant and pure slowly and gracefully growing as red as a Lannister cloak. And the skies as they cried the blood of her kin. Hot and blinding. Dark images of the bodies flashed at the forefront; stags and direwolves alike. A wolf howled outside her window. She thought it an omen. The two creatures were destined to destroy one another. Destined to fall at each other's side. And the youngest of the stags feared that the union between the two would bring about that downfall. For it did not take a maester to know that a predator could not resist its prey forever. The hunt was simply in their nature.

The thickest cloak she had, did very little against the icy weather; the Baratheon woman believed it too cold even for the snow. Tormented in her sleep, and fearful of her newfound position in her waking hours, the raven-haired doe found herself seeking solace.

The Sept was empty as she entered it, and for that, she was thankful. Gingerly, she lit a candle beneath each of the Seven Gods before she stepped back and took a deep breath. Her eyes flitted between each of the seven representational statues on each of the seven walls. As she lingered in the centre of the modest building, Rhaelle realised she did not know what she was praying for. And that notion alone reflected how lost she truly felt in the light of a new day; a new home, new responsibilities…an impending marriage. Unlike Stannis, she had kept her Faith. Though, in truth, she often questioned if there was anyone listening to her prayers. Regardless of her doubts, her attention wandered to The Warrior. Perhaps it was courage that she ought to ask for. Courage to open her heart to the wolf that her brother had promised her to. Or perhaps she ought to send her pleas to The Smith. Perhaps, it was strength that she required. The strength to set aside her pride. To truly give Winterfell the chance it deserved. Strength to push through the fears that plagued her slumber.

Her knees ached slightly as she finally rose from the cold stone floor. If there was anything that the young doe needed it was to be alone. Whilst her prayers may have come to an end, her senses remained suffocated and so she found herself delving into the woodland that surrounded Winterfell; the need for solitude outweighing the wish to remain out of trouble. Because trouble meant facing her brother and Rhaelle swore that she would rather do anything than spend any more time than necessary with him.

Fallen twigs snapped underneath her shoes as she breathed in the cold air; the branches above her head casting shadows across her cloak. No matter how much she wanted to hate the North, the youngest Baratheon had to admit that it was rather beautiful in the forest. The towering trees, the wild undergrowth. It was an entirely different world to the one in which she had flowered.

"I'm just saying, the mighty Kraken does not fear anything." As an all too familiar voice echoed through the woodland, blue-green eyes widened. Footsteps crunched nearer, forcing her to melt into the nearest tree trunk. Her breath static in her throat. As the conversation and footfalls subsided, the doe took her chances. Darting her gaze around, she deemed the area clear and crept back in the direction of Winterfell. However, her cloak bunched as a blade prodded her back, stopping her in her tracks. "Turn around, _slowly_. Hands where I can see them."

The string of curse words that scarred her mind were enough to make any Lady blush. Her fist clenched and her jaw tensed. Her mental cursing growing as the second man spoke: "Not much of a hunter, are you?" There was humour in his tone and Rhaelle could already picture his expression. She rolled her eyes. "What are you doing out here?"

"Escaping my captors." The words trawled from her lips as she finally turned to face the men. Lowering the hood of her cloak and allowing her dark curls to fall freely. As her eyes darted to the blade now pointed at her chest, she raised a brow to the ward holding it. "Any advice?" Theon's expression darkened with the twist of a scowl, forcing Robb to bite back a smile. "Now, are we going to continue to pretend that you know how to use that, or would you like me to remind you who my brothers are?" Doing her best to avoid the stare of icy aquamarine, Rhaelle watched in mirth as the Greyjoy boy stumbled over an apology and sheathed the blade, his face reddening. Satisfied, the doe simply turned on her heel and continued her short journey back to the safety of Winterfell, pausing only to tease further: "You truly are a fish out of water, aren't you?"

Tully blue watched her go, as if being pulled by some unknown force. Growing aware of his own interest, Robb cleared his throat and turned to his attentions to his father's ward who remained, glowering after the woman. Amused by his friend's behaviour, Robb grinned; a hearty chuckle reverberating in his throat as he choked out: "I thought the mighty Kraken was fearless." before clapping his friend on the back.

Theon's scowl darkened for the young man had never liked it when his valor nor bravery was questioned. "Shut up." He scoffed, pushing the Lord's son away, "I didn't see the noble wolf doing anything!"

"Wolves hunt in packs."

* * *

As Rhaelle sat in the library, with a dusty old book on her knee, her attention was drawn by her nephew. His golden hair shimmered in the candlelight as he waltzed towards her, a smug smile on his face and glee in his emerald eyes: "Might have known you'd be here." He drawled, running a finger along a shelve and grimacing as he inspected the dirt. "Father is looking for you, Aunt."

"What does he want with me?"

"How should I know? I am not a messenger."

"And yet, here you are." A playful smirk tugged at the corner of her lips as she closed the book and looked up at the boy. Joffrey scowled; never looking more like his mother. "What sort of mood was he in?"

The eldest of her brother's children shrugged nonchalantly: "He wouldn't speak to me."

Sighing, the youngest of the King's siblings resigned to having to face him. "I ought to get this over with then." As she stood and smoothed her skirts, she smiled sympathetically to the future King. "Your father does love you, Joffrey. Just in his own way." She assured before exiting the modest library; her words much too far from what she truly believed. Robert had never loved anyone. Not even the young Stark that he had grown infatuated with; or at least that was what Stannis had always said.

As she neared her brother's chambers, she grew anxious. It was rare that the man ever request the company of someone who wasn't one of his many whores and so dread settled in the pit of her stomach brewing with the seed of resentment that germinated as she came to the conclusion that her future husband must have informed on her little jaunt through the forest. The palms of her hands grazed the door as she sighed in defeat.

True to nature, the eldest stag was guzzling wine.

"Whatever the Stark said, it is not true. I was only in the forest…"

Bright blue eyes squinted: "What are you bleating on about?" He barked, "Which Stark? And why were you out there?"

Surprise halted her in her place. Shock thwarting her as realisation dawned; she had underestimated the young wolf once more. Robert raised a thick black brow, awaiting an answer until his sister crossed her arms and deflected: "I am not one of your cupbearers, you cannot summon me whenever you please. I could have been busy."

"Were you?"

"No, but…"

His laughter interrupted her feeble attempt at recovery. His aquamarine eyes glistening with humour, and his cheeks reddening above his voluminous beard. The raven-haired doe noted that it was the only time he ever looked happy; when he was laughing. Perhaps that was why he drank so much. For the world was a lot less serious when viewed through a wine-tinted lens. Or perhaps he simply longed to be void of any feeling that did not leave him floating.

Robert gestured to the seat in front of him and ordered: "Sit." his beady eyes trained to her as she hesitated before gingerly obeying. As she met his stare, void of expression, the man recalled how similar his sister could be to Stannis; he never could understand her love for him - perhaps it was a testament to her character, the only person capable of finding something to adore in the cold and solemn man. _If the girl could love her middle brother, she could love anyone_. Anyone except for the man in front of her. After a moment or two, the King pulled himself from his thoughts and pushed a parcel across the desk. "Here." He nodded in encouragement. "Call it a peace offering." Rhaelle hesitated once more before finally peeling back the parchment paper to reveal a new pair of boots. A tight smile twisted her stoicism as she recalled their argument in the capital. As she muttered a polite thank-you, Robert continued in a gruff tone: "I never loved my siblings. By the time I knew Renly, he was grown, and Stannis…is Stannis. Then there is you. My only sister. Perhaps if I had brought you to court sooner…"

"Yet, you did not." In that moment, she sounded like their mother. A simple statement of interruption that held no malice. It took him aback. "Forgive me, My Lord, but delving into the past matters not." As she swallowed, she met his stare and left him to question if her next words were intended to wound. "It will not change anything."

"Ah, you're right, I suppose." Rhaelle watched as the man shook his head, cradling his beard before chuckling lightly. Though this laughter did not reach his eyes - almost making the doe wish that she could have felt guilty for her candour. "The men will ride out hunting tomorrow. Pre-wedding rituals and all that." A flicker of a nightmare flashed to the forefront of her mind, draining the colour from her face. A dead stag. A wolf with an antler through it. "What? You look like you've seen a ghost."

A cold hand ran over her face as she cleared her throat: "Nothing." She dismissed, ignoring the sense of impeding trauma. "Just…be careful."

"Enough of that. I might start thinking you care." The siblings laughed lightly, though only one reached the eyes.

* * *

The corridors were quiet as she slipped away from supper; the only sound being the clop of her new fur boots against the cold cobblestone. Sea-green eyes grew cloudy as her mind pondered the truth in her dreams. A knot of worry darkening her brow; the young doe may have had very little love for her eldest brother but he was family, nonetheless, and so she had a duty to him. A flash of dark grey caught her attention, pulling her gaze to the young man at the end of the corridor.

"Lord Stark!" She called, picking up her pace and approaching him as he paused with a polite smile.

"Just Robb. If we are to be married in two days, we may as well use our first names." Rhaelle cringed inwardly at the notion, before nodding absentmindedly and glancing over her shoulder. Sapphire shimmed as the Stark smiled, amusement tinting his expression. "Can I help you with something?"

"What?" Her dark hair whipped her shoulder lightly as she snapped her gaze toward his, a gentle frown twisting her brow before realisation dawned. She hadn't spoken. "Oh…um." Rhaelle cursed herself as she cleared her throat in embarrassment. Entirely unsure what was wrong with her, and all too willing for the floor to swallow her up. She cleared her throat once more and took a breath, locking her fluster behind a well learned façade. "You did not tell my brother that I had left the grounds. Why not?" In truth, the Baratheon was grateful for his thoughtfulness as it was no secret that her relationship with Robert had been complicated enough.

"I thought that perhaps you needed a break." His own curls crinkled as he shrugged lightly, giving him a youthful look. Blue-tinted green surveyed him, noting the slight stubble that had grown since her arrival and concluding that she preferred it to the clean-shaven jawline that she had originally been greeted with. As he held her gaze, the doe noted the dark grey rings that cradled the Tully blue ocean. "And you came back." Upon hearing his words, her attention snapped back to the conversation that she had started and then failed to partake in. Rhaelle mentally kicked herself as the younger man chuckled warmly, evidently aware of her. Perhaps it was the lack of peaceful, uninterrupted sleep that was stealing her concentration; at least that was the excuse she had mustered, relieved when the wolf simply nodded in understanding.

"So what is it you want?" Robb raised a brow in question, unsure what it was that she was suggesting. "For helping me. What do you expect in return?"

His laughter filled the space between them until it was cut short by her frown as it alerted him that she was indeed quite serious: "I don't want anything."

"Everybody wants something and everything has a price."

"You don't trust anybody, do you?"

Rhaelle blinked at him, it was not a question that she had ever considered the answer to. A question that she had never required the answer to. She trusted Stannis unconditionally, there was no denying that. Though the more she thought about it, the more she realised that she had no one else that she could truly depend on. No one else who knew everything about her. No one else that she needn't fear getting too close. That simple realisation allowed the loneliness to seep out of the box that she had kept chained and hidden in the depths of her mind. Icy blue studied the way the space between her brows crinkled as she thought. The way her eyes grew distant and her lips parted ever-so-slightly - the moisture on them catching the candlelight. After a moment, she answered. Her voice hinting that she was a lot less sure of herself than she liked to believe: "Trust has to be earned." Robb considered her for a moment longer. The unusual vulnerability in her tone. In the short time he had known her, she had an awful tendency to project the harsher and stormy aspects of herself. The less desirable aspects. The aspects that made him clench his fists in frustration. However, after their recent brief encounters, there was no doubt in his mind that her prickly nature was merely a defence mechanism. Though against what, he had still to determine. _What was she so afraid of?_ Her voice pulled him from his thoughts. "Why are you looking at me like that?"

"I don't know." He muttered, shaking his head. "I can't read you."

"I am 'spoiled, colder than the coldest of winters and immature', remember?"

"I believe I said childish." Rhaelle rolled her eyes and averted her gaze. "You always do that."

"What?"

"Look away from me to hide the fact that I just made you smile." His eyes smiled despite his sincerity, as the woman afore him returned her attention to him; a raven brow raised. "Seems to me that you're terrified of growing to like me."

"Seems to me that you _can_ read me." As she retorted quicker than he had expected, Rhaelle shrugged with forced nonchalance. Using his surprise to her advantage, the young doe walked past him, pausing only to whisper over her shoulder: "Goodnight, _Robb._"

A satisfied smile cradled her lips as continued toward her chambers; stealing on last glance back towards the Wolf with the ice in his eyes and the fire in his hair.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter V**

The steam danced through the air; graceful and slow to the soothing melody that parted the handmaiden's lips. Her hands blistering red as they washed through raven-black waves. "I will never understand how you can bathe in such a heat." The older woman muttered, running her calloused hands through the water. Soft grey eyes concentrated on the young woman that she had cared for since birth. "You used to cry if you thought the water too cold."

Stormy green eyes remained glued to the flickering flame as it accompanied the steam in the first lights of dawn that seeped through the night. Wolves howled with the wind just beneath her window as she replied: "It makes me feel clean."

"Yes, fire is said to purge." The woman's wrinkles grew deeper as she smiled fondly at the young doe; the corner of pale pink lips quirking ever-so-slightly, despite themselves as turquoise lingered on the dancing flames that they drew her fingertips towards them. The handmaiden's smile dropped as concern twisted aged features, her attention stolen by the dainty hand that melded with the fire; refusing to recoil. Rhaelle watched as bright orange licked her skin, mesmerizing and calming. "You seem troubled, mi'lady." Her voice croaked. "Another dream?"

Abandoning the candle, the Baratheon woman sighed heavily: "What am I going to do once I am married? How am I to explain why I wake up screaming? I promised Stannis that I would never utter a word to anyone about my dreams. I gave him my word."

"I also made your brother a promise. The same vow I made to your mother as I pulled you from her." A raven brow contorted in question. "That I would protect you no matter the cost." Calloused hands cradled a pale face, a loving smile comforting woe. "Although, I have a suspicion that the young wolf will surprise you."

Humming - albeit rather unconvinced- in response, Rhaelle's mind allowed itself to wander to the terror that had haunted her mere hours before:

__The red dragon raced up the tall and winding steps of the tower, forcing her to quicken her pace. His tail disappeared from sight as she heaved a deep breath; her lungs burning from the chase. The top of the tower was crumbling, long vines of an unknown plant weaving it together in rescue. Cool gusts of wind whipped at the leaves, tugging at her skirts. The cawing of crows overhead battered her ears as her eyes frisked the room in search of the dragon. Finding nothing, the doe turned back towards the staircase. A whimper halted her. The cawing grew louder and the wind grew stronger; whipping her cheeks until they were as red as a Lannister cloak. Afore her stood a wolf pup, tiny in stature as it lingered on the window ledge. Dark brows twisted in confusion as the King's sister tilted her head gently. The cawing reached its crescendo until…silence. The hair on the back of her neck stood on end as the silence suffocated. Compelled, she gingerly reached a hand towards the wolf; it's golden eyes holding her.__

__And then it leaped and the world fell into slow motion. A scream strangled her throat as she launched toward the window. Watching as the tiny little pup collided with the icy rocks beneath.__

* * *

As dawn continued to break against the frozen landscape, the young doe elected to walk the grounds; the cold fresh air a welcome reprieve from the stifling warmth of the castle. That notion alone unsettled her. Rhaelle hated the cold, and yet as time wore on, she found the crunch of the frost underfoot much more comforting than the false pleasantries that had accompanied their visit within the spring-heated walls of the keep. In truth, the Baratheon woman was growing rather fond of the North - not that she would admit it to anyone. Stubborn immaturity lingering in protest against the freedom that lay within her grasp. The freedom to say exactly what she meant without the fear of persecution; the freedom to remain loyal without compromising oneself for the sake of agreement. In the short time that she had been in Winterfell, she had realised that life there was very different. The Starks appeared to know each and every man who fought for them, a concept that the brunette deemed foreign to anyone south of the Neck; for the only name that mattered was the House in which you belonged, and there were much more important matters to attend to than childhood memories. Rhaelle often found herself pondering if Robb would expect her to learn the stories of the men around them, and as time wore on, she found herself caring more and more about the answer to that question. Another notion that greatly unsettled her.

As she continued along the grounds, towards the stables, a pair of yellow eyes halted her. The grey wolf regarded her coolly, as if assessing its prey. She swallowed as it stalked towards her, agonisingly slow. Instinctively, the doe retreated - flashes of her nightmares warning her judgement: "Good…wolf." She mumbled uselessly, her voice shaky as her throat grew dry. The animal crept closer still, golden eyes gluing her to the mud beneath her boots. "Shoo." Her pulse rose as the creature ignored her and inched closer still; as silent as death and forcing her to all but plead pathetically. "__Go on, shoo__…"

"I don't believe I've taught him to "shoo"." Alerted to his presence, the young woman would have sighed in relief had it not been for the clear amusement that seeped from his words. Estermont green snapped to Tully blue; the latter bit back a smile as he leant against the stable door.

"I am glad you find it funny." Her pale face darkened with a scowl which served only to amuse the Stark further. Raven curls wobbled as she huffed and gestured towards the direwolf. "Do you mind?" As the younger man shrugged nonchalantly in response, it look ever ounce of restraint to refrain from stomping her foot and unleashing the fury that had begun to warm her cheeks. Instead, she crossed her arms and set her jaw; warily glancing out the corner of her eye at the yellow-eyed giant that sniffed at her feet. "Call off your beast."

"You aren't afraid, are you? He is only pup."

"Robb!" Rhaelle all but shrieked; frustration and fear brewing an unsightly mix as she backed herself into a wall. "I am serious."

"I can tell." As his amusement grew, Robb grinned brightly before signalling to his wolf and watching as the woman's shoulders immediately relaxed. "Grey Wind won't harm you. I've trained him well."

"It does not take a maester to know that wolves hunt deer…" Sea green eyed the direwolf once more, she had never liked dogs nor anything that resembled them - something that Renly had often teased her for. A slight smile comforted her as she recalled the trouble he had landed himself in when he locked her in his chambers with the hunting hounds.

Robb studied her for a moment, noticing the change in her demeanour before she locked it away and huffed at him; a defence mechanism. A gentle smile glistened in his eyes: "Come here." He instructed, shaking his head as the woman rose a dark brow in contest. "Trust me."

"Trust needs to be earned." Rhaelle fought a smile as he laughed in response. His auburn curls glistening in the morning sun as he threw his head back in a childlike manner. However, it was entirely against her nature to allow him to see that she was warming to him and so as he held out his hand a beckoned her, she simply crossed her arms.

Unbeknownst to the doe, she was much more transparent than she believed. For the young wolf had often found himself studying her; the subtle glances she sent him when she thought he was not looking, the intrigue that often slipped through her resolve when they spoke, and the tiniest of smiles that tweaked the corner of her pink lips whenever they were alone. The battle of wills continued. Blue eyes crinkling with another smile as the man wiggled the fingers on his outstretched hand. Finally, Rhaelle sighed and reluctantly placed her hand in his. It was strong, and impossibly warm considering the cold around them; a severe contrast to her own.

As Robb guided her towards Grey Wind, she did everything within her power to ignore the tensing of her muscles and the hammering of her pulse in her neck. Noting the ashen look that paled her face as they drew nearer, the Stark gently squeezed her hand - drawing her wary gaze from the direwolf: "Trust me." He urged once more, kneeling beside his pet and muttering introductions as if they mattered to the creature. Perhaps they did. Chewing the inside of her cheek and fighting the urge to flee, the King's sister let our a shaky breath before kneeling on the icy path. Allowing the man to guide their hands to soft, thick fur, the young woman held her breath; knowing that if she were to stay in Winterfell, there was no use in fearing its inhabitants. Seconds felt like hours as the warmth from the creature radiated through their hands; no one had dared to move until finally the pup turned his head, causing the doe to jump a little and clutch Robb's arm with her free hand. However, in response, Grey Wind simply nudged her with his snout. This time, as sea green met yellow, the prior smiled gently. It was the first genuine smile that she hadn't bothered trying to hide from the man that she was set to marry. Robb watched as she released his arm and gingerly stroked the fur around the wolf's ears, smiling as the pup nudged her again in response. "It would seem that this wolf happens to like a certain stag."

His voice was so low that it left his companion to wonder if he had meant her to hear. However, at the mention of their sigils, Rhaelle elected to pull her gaze from the wolf in front of her, only to find the younger man already considering her. The fur cloak that cradled his shoulders, tickled her jawline and alerted her to their position; fingers still entwined together and somewhat forgotten. It was the first time that the youngest Baratheon had ever noticed the light freckles that littered his face, or the smile lines that creased skin weathered by the cold - and yet, there was a softness there as cerulean cradled her.

A throat cleared behind them, forcing the pair to save face and increase the distance between them.

"Whilst this is very touching, we are getting the horses together for the hunt." Theon Greyjoy smirked as he noted the sheepish smiles that crept across their faces. "Your father is looking for you, Robb."

Rising to her full height, Rhaelle nodded in greeting to the boy - wondering how long he had actually been standing there. The warmth of Robb's hand slowly left hers, as their eyes met once more. With a simple smile, the Warden of the North's son followed his father's ward towards the assembling hunting party; leaving the older woman to curse the fluttering in her stomach as he allowed himself to steal one final glance over his shoulder.

It was no surprise to her that her brother had demanded wild boar for the wedding feast. And certainly no surprise that he had forced the Stark men to accompany him whilst he caught it himself. Perhaps, it was a gesture. Or perhaps, it was ego. Nevertheless, it did surprise her that he refused to bring any of the Lannister men that he had entrusted to protect them on the ride North. Perhaps the few weeks that they had spent in the harsh conditions had changed him too. Perhaps, Lord Eddard Stark would return her brother to the man that many used to herald; the man that she thought she would meet when she was introduced to him all those years ago. The man that did not serve as a puppet for the lions. The man that had never existed for her.

As something solid collided with her legs, the doe was yanked from her thoughts. Instinctively, she threw her arms out to steady the little boy. Bran Stark. His hair was as unruly as ever, however, the cheeky grin that often accompanied his mischief was entirely amiss. Instead, replaced by a trembling lower lip and red eyes.

"Bran?" The young woman asked softly, "Are you alright?" Selfishly, she had never once considered how the Stark children had felt about leaving their home behind. After all, as she was set to remain in the unforgiving North, they were set to ride south with their mother and father to an entirely different world.

"Leave me alone!" The young wolf snarled, entirely unlike the sweet and well-mannered boy she had previously encountered. As the Baratheon opened her mouth to respond, Bran furiously banished his tears with the edge of his sleeves and bolted off in the direction of the godswood.

The doe dared not follow, for she did not belong.

* * *

The goblet of wine clattered to the floor as it cascaded from her hands. News of the second youngest Stark's fall had quickly spread throughout the spring-heated castle. Red liquid sloshed across the granite tiling, taunting her with memories of the dragon dream. The flames in the lamp to her left wobbled wildly before flickering into nothingness. Wolves howled in agonised mourning. Her blood ran cold.

Sleep was an impossible feat that night; the howling unrelenting. As morning broke through the dark and ominous night, there was no one left to rise. The hunting party had returned, their bravado crushed by tragedy.

Days melded into one with no news of recovery.

The wolves howled on.

On the second day, the young doe had timidly approached the tower chamber to offer her prayers to Lord Eddard and Lady Catelyn - having elected to allow the parents time to grieve privately for the first twenty-four hours. In truth, she thought her words useless for all the sincerity in the world would never change the fact that those exact words had passed the lips of every living person in Winterfell. And so, by day three, the youngest of Steffon Baratheon's children set out to help in the only way that she knew how.

Her brother had spent all night with his friend, and so when she had entered his chambers, the weariness was evident across his expression. A pained frown creased the top of his brow, grief lingering in his usually jolly eyes.

Rhaelle curtsied politely as she approached the King: "My Lord, the Starks are grieving and with little Bran's life in the balance, is now really the correct time for a wedding?"

"You won't weasel out of this." For the first time, her brother did not chide her with a derogatory response, nor did he laugh at her. For the first time, he appeared to genuinely care for something.

"I am not trying to." Her voice was gentle yet firm as she responded, her eyes casting down to entwined hands as she played the docile sister. "I was just thinking that if it were one of __my __brothers…Stannis, Renly…or you…getting married would be the last thing that I would want to do. I know you are far too intelligent to allow this alliance to forged with resentment."

Robert sighed roughly, running a hand over his beard: "You may be right."

"My love, your sister has been against this union since the beginning." As the snake in lion's clothing spoke, the doe bit back the anger that boiled within her. "Do you really believe that she cares for the Stark boy now?"

At the mention of the wolf, Rhaelle flared her nostril and clenched her teeth: "My feelings for Robb Stark have nothing to do with this." She snapped, fury in her stormy eyes. It was true that her feelings towards the Stark had everything to do with it. But not for the reason that Cersei believed. She was doing this __for __him.

"Please…" The beautiful woman scoffed, rolling her eyes as she cradled her chiselled chin with her hand.

Robert's eyes matched his sister's as his own Baratheon fury snapped: "Hold your tongue, woman!"

"Robert." The man looked to his youngest sibling, the softness in her tone throwing him off-guard as she addressed him as her brother rather than any other lord. For the fraction of a second, the King witnessed the relationship that he could have had. The one that had been awarded to Stannis. "I am not asking you to prevent the union, merely postpone it to give your chosen brother the chance to pray for the life of his child."

"Are you really that blind that you cannot see what she is doing?" Cersei scoffed once more. Emerald eyes narrowing as she regarded the younger woman that had been a thorn in her side since the moment she arrived in King's Landing. "The little viper is using your…"

"I said hold your tongue." The King snapped once more, his fist pounding the table as his cheeks reddened. Finally, he returned his gaze to his sister. Rhaelle waited patiently, watching as he caressed his beard in thought before finally sighing: "Seven days. One for each of the gods."

Fighting back a victorious smile as the Queen protested, the younger woman curtsied: "Thank you, brother." Her boots clapped against the granite as she left the chambers with the intent of seeking out a certain Stark, however, a snort of amusement stopped her in her tracks.

"__Brother__. Laying it on a little thick, don't you think?" Rhaelle rolled her eyes heavily as she turned to find Jaime Lannister leaning against the wall in a lackadaisical manner. Emerald eyes studied her as she steeled her expression into one that projected nothing aside from simple boredom. "What are you up to?"

"Kindness really is amiss among you Lannisters."

The lion scoffed, looking identical to his twin sister and causing the younger woman's stomach to lurch in a way much different to the usual effect the man had on her: "You've despised the __pup __since the moment you laid eyes on him." As he stalked towards her, the doe noted the venom that dripped from every syllable as it left his lips. She crossed her arms. A defence. "Why show him kindness now?"

"I don't expect you to understand." Regarding him coolly with as little emotion as her hot-headed demeanour would allow, the woman turned on her heel and attempted to return on her journey; halted as a strong gloved hand gripped her arm.

"You should know, this frostiness is not a good look on you." The man drawled. Almost purring.

"I could say the same to you." The storm returned to her as she snapped her stare back to him, refusing to look anywhere but his eyes. Jaime loosened his grip. "Things have changed."

"They don't have to."

"You only want what you cannot have."

"That is something we have in common." As his signature grin brightened his expression, emerald trailed her pale skin. Lingering on her exposed neck before a sigh parted his lips. "I am sorry."

Her eyes darkened as a deep frown creased her complexion. Suspicion rising, "What have you done?" A blonde brow piqued in question. "As far as you could help it, you have avoided me since the welcome feast."

"Don't take it personally, sweetheart."

"You are one of the most headstrong men I have ever met. You never apologise." Her eyes pierced him as she continued. "You are trying to curry my favour."

Dropping his voice to nothing but a sultry whisper, the knight gingerly reached a hand to toy with a strand of raven-coloured hair: "Perhaps, I was simply reminiscent." As if his touch had burned her, Rhaelle stepped away. Her eyes flickering down the corridor to check that they were truly alone. Her reaction alone allowed the cocksure lion the notion that he had maintained his hold over her. Held her attention despite their circumstance and that would serve him well. Jaime smirked suggestively, as he inched closer once more. His voice lowering as he lured in his prey: "Meet me tonight."

Ocean green widened at the proposition, a gentle scoff parting pale rosy lips as she stared incredulously: "You really have gone mad!" She hissed through gritted teeth, "I am getting married."

"To someone that you don't feel anything for."

Immediately, the doe steeled her jaw; pushing her emotion aside as her lip threatened to tremble. Her voice was a lot less sure of herself than she would have liked as she whispered: "I am not as naive as you think." Her eyes flickered between his before narrowing. "You want something and whatever this is, I will not allow you to use me for it."

"Rhaelle…"

"No, Jaime."

Her hands shook with adrenaline as she swiftly strode out of sight. Curiosity battling the knowledge that when it came to the Lannisters, ignorance was the safest option. Renly had always argued that this was the reason that their eldest brother had thrived; too busy whoring and hunting to tame the lions.

Each step deeper into the Keep led the young doe from one predator to the next. Danger lurking between the wintry shadows cast against the spring-warmed walls. From the jaws of the lion to the snarl of the wolf.

His expression was pensive as she approached, her mind racing to determine if it were too late to turn and walk back the way she had come. His right hand rubbed his jawline as he paced back and forth along the corridor. The tension across his shoulders evident in the way he carried himself. Silently, Rhaelle slowly turned on her heel however as the younger man sighed, she paused. It would not have been entirely unlike her to continue walking, to pretend that she hadn't seen him. And yet, she closed her eyes and cursed lightly before returning to her original route.

Blue eyes glanced up at the sound of her footsteps and the light scuffing of her dress against the flagstone floor. He watched as she drew closer.

"I…" The older woman began, unsure of the words that she ought to utter at such a time. "I'm sorry about your brother."

"Everyone is." The wolf snapped back.

Her tongue throbbed as she bit down on it; willing her temper to allow him this one and reminding herself that he was hurting. Taking a deep breath, Rhaelle spoke once more: "If there is anything I can do…"

"Put an end to this facade."

"I tried." Biting down once more, the King's sister felt her temperature rise as it took every ounce of self control to remain civil. "Robert would only allow me to postpone it for seven days."

Robb scoffed: "Try harder."

"You don't think I have done all that I can? It was me against Cersei and you know as well as I do that the Lannisters get what they want."

"Then appeal to the __Kingslayer__" His tone was bitter as he spat the foul name. "I have seen the looks that you exchange. I am not a fool."

"I don't appreciate your tone nor what you are implying." Her words were slow and very much deliberate; pushed through gritted teeth. A twisted laugh parted his lips, earning a grimace as the woman fought to maintain control of the famed Baratheon fury that was brewing merely inches below her collected demeanour. The fingernails of her right hand embedded themselves into her palm as she took a long and steady breath. Rhaelle ground her teeth in annoyance. She wasn't sure what it was about the younger man but he had an uncanny ability to get under her skin. Fighting the rising tide of fury that drowned her senses, the doe turned on her heel and walked away; her hair slapping her cheek as she spun. However, as her boots pounded the stone floor like the beat of a war song, her heart pounded in her ears. The cold environment suddenly banished by the blood in her cheeks. Fight or flight. And true to the blood that ran in her veins, the Baratheon did not flee. Within a hair of a second, she had returned to the wolf; the storm raging in her eyes as she regarded him in indignation: "I'll have you know that I appealed to Robert for __you__." She argued breathlessly, prodding his chest with her index finger. "I was on __your __side even though I stood to gain nothing from it!" As she prodded him again, he caught her hand in his. Her nostrils flared in annoyance as her stare pierced him, pulling him toward her like the sirens said to litter the waters of Storm's End. "And if I could have, I would have never set foot in this awful place."

"It must be terrible. Your House receiving my entire family, the North and its banners, and for what? _You_?"

As he raised his brows in question, the Baratheon scoffed and snatched her hand away from him: "Well you needn't worry, your __Lordship__. Once this is over we never have to so much as look at each other again!"

"Not a moment too soon."

"Grow up."

"__Ladies __first."

His words were slow and deliberate, his tone barely but a low growl. It was then that she smelt the wine on his breath. The odour alerting her to their proximity, and the notion that perhaps it was the alcohol and his grief fuelling his behaviour. Her eyes met his as she questioned whether he had been the first to close the respectful gap between them or if she had been the guilty party. His breath was quick and just as agitated as her own, tickling her nose as it escaped him. Iced Tully blue melted from stormy green, landing on her lips. The flickering flames of the torches that illuminated the darkened hallway, danced across his complexion, highlighting the dark rings that cradled his eyes, and the hardened expression that had replaced the boyish softness. She studied him; her raven brow pinched ever-so-slightly in the middle.

A door creaked open, and a gruff Northern accent cut through the atmosphere like a knife: "What's going on out here?"

Instinctively, the woman spoke, her voice cracking lightly as her eyes remained glued by frost as it returned to her: "Nothing, my Lord. I apologise for the disruption."

The younger of the two wolves growled under his breath as the doe held his stare for another moment. Icy fire against a tsunami burning with tension; static electricity tingling in the air rising until…nothing. In the blink of an eye, the storm was taken from him by a whip of raven-hair, taking all the warmth and leaving him alone with the questioning stare of his father.

* * *

Seven days passed. The sun had risen and fallen like a shooting star sprinting across the sky in urgency. Whilst Winterfell continued to mourn the young wolf as he lay motionless in the tower. The direwolves continued to howl; the agonising wails becoming the soundtrack to life in the North, piercing the hearts of all who dared to listen. As the days sped by, the royal party grew restless, the Queen grew demanding, and the youngest of the King's siblings grew withdrawn; isolating herself within the confines of her chambers, much to the fury of her brother. However, despite its best efforts self-isolation did nothing to slow the cruel hands of time.

That morning, the room had felt darker than usual, emphasising the utter loneliness that the stubborn doe had felt. A concept that she ought to acquaint herself with, for the sunrise had signified the royal party's final twenty-four hours in Winterfell. A shiver ran down her spine as her handmaiden opened the shutters that shielded her window; the chill alerting her to the harshness of her new reality as goosebumps littered her smooth pale skin. Skin much too delicate for the harsh North. However, whether she liked it or not, and whether she sulked in her room like a child or not, she was getting married in a matter of hours.

The doe slammed her stormy green eyes shut and took a long deep breath so not to lose her temper as the old woman all but yanked her hair from her head, twisting and turning it in multiple ways to create the perfect hairstyle. Another element of the day that she had absolutely no control over. Clenching her fist, she elected to focus her energy on the flickering flame of the candle in front of her; the fire as always providing a calming effect. However, the silent moment of reprieve that the flame had given her was soon to be a distant memory as a pot-bellied stag barrelled through the creaky old door.

"There's the blushing bride!" Rhaelle barely bothered to look at her brother as he flung his arms out, sloshing wine on the floor. "Don't look so miserable, I could have given you a hell of a lot worse than Robb bleedin' Stark." Robert laughed gruffly, slapping her on the back as she ground her teeth in annoyance. "Stubborn as a boar. The servants say you haven't eaten. Here, drink." The pungent smell of wine wafted towards her leaving her to question if it were coming from the goblet that had been extended to her or the man holding it. Coolly, she allowed her gaze to drag across the golden goblet before simply turning back to the candlelight. This time, the dancing flame neglected to calm her, instead electing to fuel a fiery chasm in her chest. "Our Houses were set to be joined when you were barely walking."

"Yet you ended up in a loveless marriage and have condemned me to suffer the same fate." The young woman scowled immaturely. "Perhaps there is hope that one of us may end up happy. Unless you intend to ruin Renly's life also."

"Hah!" The King laughed, wine tainted saliva expelling itself from his beard. "No House worth a pig's shit would take him!"

"Do not speak of my brother in that way."

"You always did fight his battles for him."

"What would you know of it?" Rhaelle scoffed, venom slipping freely from her lips. Her scornful stare piercing with deadly intent. "You kept me under lock and key without so much as a second glance until it was beneficial to sell me."

"I am the King and the bleedin' head of our House. You are my sister and…"

"Perhaps by blood but you are no brother of mine." As the young woman interrupted, she stood to her full height. "You are a drunk, and a pathetic excuse for a King."

Robert's hand lifted quicker than she had ever seen him move, quicker than she thought it was possible for someone of his stature to move. For the first time, Rhaelle flinched. The young doe had very quickly worked out how to get under the King's skin, an unfortunate side effect of the fury fuelled arguments that they regularly had. Back in the capital, their brothers had often intervened as the servants scurried to safety. It was in the silent moments of reflection after the explosion that highlighted the bond between his sister and his brothers - Stannis in particular; another aspect that secured Robert's resentment towards the second eldest Baratheon. As the young woman braced for impact, she was surprised to find that it never came. Robert clenched his fist tightly, the fury in his glower muddling with something that she could not quite pinpoint. "There was a time that the four of us were family."

"Was that before or after you started a war for a woman that you barely knew?"

Within the blink of an eye, the goblet in his hand had been launched across the room. As it clattered off the wall, Rhaelle dismissed her handmaiden; watching as the wine ran down the stone, pooling at the bottom.

His face reddened to a deep Lannister red as he closed the space between them; furious and seething through his teeth: "You will show me some respect or Gods help me."

"Then earn it."

Emerald eyes watched as the younger woman matched her brother's tone; refusing to back down as he loomed over her. The pair never looking more alike. The Queen plastered a smile and spoke as sweet as honeysuckle: "My Love, it is time to get dressed."

Naturally, Robert did not bother to cast his wife a sparing glance, instead grabbing his sister's chin in his pudgy hand and threatening: "You will go out there, you will smile and you will say the words and you will be fucking happy about it or so help me, you won't see the outside of the castle walls again." The heat from his face burned her as she held eye contact. Finally, the King released her and stormed out, kicking the discarded goblet on the way past.

"And what did you suppose that would achieve?"

This time there were no falsities in the woman's voice, Rhaelle scowled darkly and she returned to the seat by the dressing table: "You ought to look happier. You got what you wanted."

"I always get what I want." Cersei stepped forward, her long red dress elegantly avoiding the spilled wine on the floor. Gracefully, she picked up the hair golden hair clasp that lay on the table; it had been a gift from Stannis. "May I?" As she held it up, the doe nodded curtly, entirely uneasy as the lioness prowled. As she began to fix the clasp into the long raven curls, the Queen spoke once more - veiled contempt poisoning her words: "You shouldn't scowl, your brother would have done anything to be a Stark."

"My brother never loved you, not for one second." As she spoke, Rhaelle studied the older woman; a gentle sigh befalling her: "I do not know how you do it. I respected that about you." The Lannister woman stepped away, allowing her hair to fall into place and meeting her gaze for a brief moment.

"Make yourself indispensable." She advised. "If he cannot love you, make him respect you. If love comes then the Seven have favoured you more than most."

Golden threads brushed rosy cheeks as Cersei spun on her heel and headed towards the door. Pausing in the doorway as the younger noble called a gentle: "Thank you."

As the door closed, the youngest Baratheon was alone for the first time. Unable to control herself, her knees buckled and she slid to the floor. Unsteady hands shaking violently as they cradled her head against her knees. Salted tears stinging tired eyes as sobs raked through her body; undiscriminating and lacking all empathy. Rhaelle rarely cried, always electing to deal with her emotions through anger and frustration but as she stood face to face with her future, she was broken. Tears battering down her defences.

Courage and strength, a stranger.


	7. Chapter 7

CHAPTER VI

A gentle knock at the door lifted her head from her knees, and forced her to furiously wipe the tears from her face. Silently cursing as she stood and caught a glimpse of her reflection, her handmaiden's handiwork ruined. Another knock sounded against the wood, louder this time and demanding that she pull the door towards her. Her stomach flipped lightly and she cursed under her breath as she came face to face with the last person she had hoped to see that day.

"May I come in?" He looked nervous and the young doe had to admit that it appeared foreign to his expression…odd. Scratching the back of his neck, he avoided her gaze, and perhaps that was why she stepped aside with a curt nod. As he entered the modest chambers, his ice blue gaze flickered over the puddle of wine and the discarded goblet. The frown that pinched his brow was enough for the girl to send a silent prayer to each of the Seven Gods. For the first time in her relatively short life, Rhaelle felt like her prayers had been answered as the younger man returned his attention to her and neglected to acknowledge the evidence of her prior argument. "Did you sleep alright?"

"The howling…" she muttered, in response; shivering as a gust of wind tore through the open window.

Robb nodded, an awkward silence suffocating them. After a moment, the Stark spoke once more as another howl echoed from the grounds below: "You know, you can tell which of the direwolves is howling. If you listen carefully." Finally, sea green melded with ocean blue; the latter noting the intrigue that creased the porcelain between raven brows. "It's true. Come here." The breeze ruffled his curls as he stood against the window, eyes never leaving the older woman as she remained where she was, watching him as he extended his hand to her. Stubbornly, the doe stared at the gesture for a moment until gingerly placing her fingertips on his and allowing him to guide her to the spot beside him. "Close your eyes and listen." Rhaelle raised an unimpressed brow, however as the wolf held her gaze, she sighed roughly and complied. A long whine of a howl pierced her as she listened, woe evident in the cry. "That one's Bran's." As he whispered, his northern accent seeming thicker and huskier in the silence. Her thoughts were soon interrupted by a second howl which was identified quicker than the last. "Shaggydog." A third soon echoed those of their siblings', louder and more powerful. This time, the Baratheon woman allowed curiosity to win over her - forcing her to open one eye to peek at the younger man. A gentle smile dimpled his cheeks as he affirmed: "and that one was Grey Wind." As she opened both eyes and acknowledged him, she noted the sombre expression that dulled the rising sunlight in his eyes, and the sag in his shoulders as he sighed inaudibly.

"What are you doing here, Robb?" Her voice cracked as she whispered, unsure that she wanted the answer for it was sure to remind her that in a matter of hours, the wolf afore her would have the ultimate power over her happiness. And there was nothing that the doe hated more.

"I couldn't marry you today knowing what would be expected of us, when we hadn't spoken in a week." As he turned to look at her, she held her breath. Chewing the inside of her lip as she mustered a curt nod. "I am sorry for what I said."

"Which part?" The young woman asked, "The "put an end to this facade" or the "your house is getting everything, I am stuck with you…my life is terrible"?"

The Stark raised an auburn brow and stared at her as she mimicked him - her voice deliberately far too low: "I do not sound like that."

"Yes, you do." The woman opened her mouth once more, "And I'll have you know that I'm seventh in line for Iron Throne making _you _the closest Northerner to being King, so…you're welcome."

Robb fought a smile as her cheeks flushed with the hint of familial rage. Feigning indifferent composure, he spoke. "I am _trying _to apologise." Wintry blue regarded her in silence until she motioned for him to continue; an action that caused his jaw to clench ever-so-slightly in annoyance, prompting a smile from the raven-haired Baratheon. "My behaviour was uncalled for."

"You were grieving." She muttered softly in response, a light sigh parting her lips as she avoided eye contact. "For what it is worth, I am sorry too. I have a terrible tendency of allowing my temper to rule me." A sheepish smile quirked the left side of her mouth as she focussed on anything but the man beside her, nervously wringing her hands together. "It's a family trait."

As he nodded, he allowed himself to study her for perhaps the first time since he had entered the room. Her hair was twisted in a style that he had never seen before, allowing him to deduce that it must have been popular in the South. The eldest Stark sibling would have been lying if he had said that it wasn't a beautiful style however it didn't quite fit his assessment of the fiery Baratheon. It wasn't wild enough and offered feelings of being caged. But then again, perhaps it was perfect. Perhaps it reflected how she felt. Her eyes were glazed, reddened from rubbing, and it was very apparent to those who dared to look that she had been crying. A slight tremor of guilt surfaced as he concluded that he had played a part in her turmoil, and so he spoke with what little comfort he could offer her: "I want you to know that I forbade the bedding ceremony." Slowly, Rhaelle trailed her gaze from the world beneath the window to meet him. Her brows raising and eyes widening. In truth, it had been something that she had been terrified of from the moment she had become of age.

"Robert wouldn't stand for it…I…"

"That's why I sent my father to break the news." Robb grinned, rather pleased with himself as the young woman chuckled lightly. However, as she regarded him, there was something different in her expression. Something that he couldn't quite decipher. "What?"

"You just always…surprise me, is all." As she shook her head lightly, internally acknowledging her tendency to think the worst of the young wolf. She allowed herself to hold his stare until another howl cut through the blanket of silence. "Shaggydog, right?"

"Grey Wind."

"I swear you are making this up." As he laughed brightly, his threw his head back in a childlike manner; his eyes sparkling like a freshwater lake on a warm summer's morning. Rhaelle smiled suddenly feeling a lot lighter as she watched the sadness depart his face, if only for a moment. Robb regarded her once more, a gentle smile cradling his expression as the doe gingerly swept an unruly curl out of his eyes. As her brain kicked in, her eyes widened lightly and her cheeks flushed red. However, as she retracted her hand, the Stark man caught it, turning it over in his own; it was smaller and much softer - a sure sign of the difference between the worlds that they had occupied.

"How are you feeling about today?" There was a vulnerability in his voice as he spoke. Almost hinting that he were afraid to know the answer.

"I am to leave everything I have ever known behind." She swallowed, her words merely a whisper between them. "I wish my brothers were here. I always thought it would be Stannis giving me away."

"You admire him."

"He was always there for me." As she nodded, she thought of the second-eldest Baratheon. "My earliest memories were of the Siege of Storm's End, towards the end the garrison had run out of food and had began eating rats that the men had caught. " The sunlight reflected in her eyes as she shook her head with a light laugh, "Renly had convinced me that by eating a rat, I would turn into one and called me Ratelle for days." Robb chuckled lightly, trying to imagine the storm _that _would have created. "We'd also burned through all the candles in the Keep. My chambers were so dark that I was terrified of sleeping alone. Stannis sat by my bedside every night, and whenever I woke from a nightmare, he would tell me tales until I fell asleep." A rueful smile crossed her expression, one that her brothers had found was reserved for Stannis alone. "He was commanding an army through a siege, he was tired and had to grow up before he should have so he could care for Renly and I, but he never once let us see how much it had affected him. To us, the entire battle was a game, and our brother made sure that it remained that way…He's been my hero ever since." As she trailed off, she sighed. "Perhaps if he were here, I would be less afraid."

Robb watched as her expression fell once more, in truth he appreciated her honesty. It was something that his father had always taught him to value, and to see that from the woman that was to be his wife was a blessing in itself. At the thought of his father, the eldest son of Lord Eddard Stark offered the words that had often brought him comfort:

"My father always says that you can only ever be brave when you are afraid."

* * *

The lanterns that lit the path to the godswood cast large shadows across the frost-worn land. Twigs crunched and cracked underfoot as she approached; whispered chattering caressed her ears, carried on the light breeze that left goosebumps on her skin. Using her free hand, she pulled the cloak closer to her, partly to shield herself from the elements, partly to cling to the last of her own identity. Her breath cradled the air in front of her face, lingering and hesitant as it mimicked her demeanour. The heart tree stood tall, looming over the large crowd of people where they sat on wooden benches, torches in hand. As her gaze wandered to its face, she shivered, and for the first time in her life felt the stare of the gods bearing down on her, whether they were her own gods or not. Instinctively, her grip on Robert's arm tightened, her knuckles turning as white as the gown that she had been made to wear.

"Who comes before the gods?"

She had barely registered the thick northern accent as someone spoke through the darkness, a wave of sickness threatening to overcome her. However, her brother's voice soon cut through, demanding her attention: "Rhaelle of House Baratheon comes here to be wed. A woman grown and flowered, trueborn and noble, she comes to beg the blessings of the gods. Who comes to claim her?"

_Claim_. She had always hated that terminology. Hated the connotations that it imposed as it told everyone in witness that she were nothing more than the property of a man. Nothing more than the name bestowed upon her.

"I, Robb of House Stark, heir to Winterfell, claim her." The younger wolf stepped forward into the torchlight, prompting the doe to force her eyes to her feet. "Who gives her?"

The King pulled her forward as he boomed his full title - pride mingling with the wine as it oozed from his pores: "Robert of House Baratheon, King of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, Protector of the Realm, and her eldest brother."

"Lady Rhaelle," As the thick Northern voice spoke once more, Rhaelle realised that it was Ned. His figure now clear as her eyes adjusted to the dark. The young woman met his gaze, swallowing heavily as he asked the one question set to change her life. "Will you take this man?"

There was many a response that the youngest Baratheon had concocted, yet Robert's threat rattled at the forefront of her thoughts, forcing the politically appropriate words out of her mouth before she could change her mind: "I take this man."

The Warden of the North smiled warmly, with a nod of encouragement to his son. As Robb held out his hand to her, she took it; suddenly all too aware of the eyes that burned into them. All too aware of the tremble of anxiety that ricocheted through her entire body. Swallowing heavily and taking a large deep breath, Rhaelle followed the young wolf's lead and knelt before the heart tree. It was a tradition that the North had held for centuries, one meant to allow the Old Gods to witness their union. The crowd of guests behind them descended into a moment of silent prayer as the eyes carved into the large trunk bore down upon them and the frozen roots beneath them began to seep through her dress, chilling her as she shivered.

Finally, Ned's voice broke through the silent night air and instructed them to stand to perform the final part of the ceremony.

Robb's fingertips were rough and impossibly warm given the frosty Northern air as they grazed the soft exposed skin at her collar, slowly pulling the golden Baratheon cloak from her back. An unexpected twinge of sadness pricked at her heart as she shed her previous life. It had been but a memory since the moment she had left Storm's End with Stannis and Renly, and yet the permanence of it all had only just factored. The wind appeared to pick up as if attempting to aid the Stark man as he replaced her cloak with one bearing his own sigil; the direwolf on a snowy field. This cloak was much heavier than her own, weighing down her shoulders in such a way that her dreams pushed themselves to the forefront of her mind; the weight of responsibility suddenly gripping her. Although, she shivered much less in the thick fur.

As the brief ceremony came to a close, Rhaelle had been incredibly thankful that it had been much quicker than weddings conducted under the Faith of the Seven. There had been many an argument when the youngest of the Baratheons had elected to push for the forest wedding conducted under the Old Gods despite the Starks' amenably suggesting a mixed faith wedding in the Sept. The Seven hadn't saved her from the union, they didn't deserve the _hours _of prayer she had devoted. The hours of begging. Or perhaps in her own bitter stubbornness, it was a final way to slight her brother whilst refusing to acknowledge the marriage in the eyes of the gods that she had wasted her time on.

However, despite all bitterness she may have felt, Rhaelle was now bound to House Stark for the rest of her life.

* * *

Music floated through the hall, mingling with the loud and drunken chatter that erupted from the mouths of guests as they chugged wine and ale, and chomped down on cuttings of wild boar accompanied by a variety of root vegetables and fruit. As she cast her eyes over the joyous celebration, a longing rose in the pit of her chest; a yearning to free herself from the sadness that chained her.

As she pushed her vegetables around her plate, she allowed her attention to drift to her new husband, her gaze lingering as she noted the icy disappointed stare that was trained on the empty seat beside his father as it allowed the rest of the world fade around him. The young doe sympathised with the wolf, as she too longed for a missing loved one. She had tried to comprehend the turmoil that ought to be wreaking havoc in the mind of Catelyn Stark as she worried for the life of her son, and perhaps it was due to the simple fact that she had never known her own mother nor ever been a mother herself but she struggled to understand how the red-headed woman could neglect the rest of her children at the time that they needed her the most. Although, unlike many of her opinions, she kept that thought to herself.

Many guests approached the top table one by one to introduce themselves to her. It had surprised her how welcoming and hospitable the Northern folk had been; nothing like the rumours that circulated in the South of people that ate their younglings and turned into monsters as the moonlight rose to illuminate the frosty barren lands. As she began to enjoy the company of the Stark bannermen, her political smile was merged by sincerity. Polite conversation merged by genuine interest. However, like many things, her brother soon altered that. Her smile grew twisted by a deep-rooted disdain as her eyes cast over the King. His behaviour being as rambunctious and disorderly as ever as he sloshed wine from numerous goblets and stuffed fistfuls of greasy meat into his mouth, spitting it everywhere as he laughed with obnoxious volume. _At least _he _was enjoying himself. _She thought. Although she soon considered how disappointed their father would have been to see his first-born in his current state - in his _only _state. It was true that the youngest doe could not recall anything about Steffon Baratheon, although he had often been the hero in many of the stories that Stannis or Maester Cressin had told her and Renly growing up. Perhaps his memory had been tainted by the legends, or perhaps he would have been just as disappointed in Robert as the rest of the Baratheon bloodline. As she watched the fat man dance with yet another woman, his hands on her rear as he laughed and shouted, Rhaelle wondered what the man might have become if he had been a little less selfish and much more capable of saying no to the Lannisters that held his reign to ransom.

"If you aren't happy enough, drink some more wine." At the sound of his voice, the young woman smiled. As if her thoughts had summoned him, sea green snapped to the Imp as he held out a goblet towards her. "Don't worry, it's not poisoned." Taking the wine from his hand, she nodded as the youngest Lannister raised his goblet in a silent toast before taking a large swig.

"You look to be enjoying yourself. Seems you have an admirer." Grinning, Rhaelle gestured towards the rather busty Northern woman as she winked in the direction of the dwarf.

Tyrion smirked and gulped his wine, emerald eyes glancing over the top of the cup: "It would seem that way. I wonder if she knows my friend over there…"

As he waved to another woman, the doe shook her head with a chuckle: "You disgust me."

"And yet, I am the only person you've laughed for all night!"

"_At._ You are the only person I've laughed _at _all night." As the friends shared a gentle laugh, they brunette shook her head: "I cannot believe that you are riding for The Wall. You Lannisters hate anything short of luxury."

"How else am I going to piss off the side of the world?" The half-man asked with an incredulous expression before jeering "And you, My sweet Lady, are a hypocrite."

As Rhaelle scoffed lightly earning another chortle from the Lion, Robb finally turned his attention towards her for the first time all evening - not that she minded. His light stubble scratched her cheek as he leaned close and muttered in her ear: "Are you ready to leave?"

Pulling away ever-so-slightly to examine his expression, the raven-haired woman nodded. Relieved by the suggestion, until her last remaining duty of the evening clouded her thoughts. Immediately, her gaze flickered to a jug of wine: "That depends on whether or not, we can take that with us."

Following her stare, the wolf grinned and leant close once more to murmur: "Whatever My Lady wants."

* * *

Their chambers were larger than she had expected; once again indicating her horrifically low expectations of the North. A large four-posted bed laden with furs occupied one end, whilst at the other end lay a beautiful cushioned chaise long that reminded her of those in her quarters within the Red Keep and a couple of chairs with a table between. A roaring fire heated the room, illuminating the shadows. Lingering in the doorway, she watched as Robb sat down, pouring two goblets of wine before allowing his gaze to pierce her. Gingerly, she approached him and sat across from him. Her ears were still ringing with the din of drunken festivities and so the silence between them was a welcome reprieve, however awkward it may have been.

Her fingertips grazed his as she took her goblet of wine from him, a similar shade of red tinting her cheeks and creeping up the base of her neck. Static energy brewing as sea green snapped to icy blue. Scratching the back of her neck, she averted her gaze and took a deep shaky breath before slugging more wine in an attempt to banish the nerves.

"You know, my mother made that tapestry." His voice was thick and gravelly as he nodded to the intricate woven fabric above the fireplace. Rhaelle allowed her gaze to remain on him. The warmth that the flames forced to his eyes, the solemn expression that thwarted his pinked lips.

Her voice was gentle and barely audible as she whispered: "I'm sorry that she wasn't there tonight."

"Me too." As silence descended upon the newly married couple once more, the doe took a deep breath - knowing that she could no longer avoid the inevitable - and rose to her feet, approaching the bed. Instinctively, the wolf followed. "If you do not want to, we…"

"You are very kind," A gentle smile that could almost be mistaken for affection crossed her expression for the most flitting of moments. "But if this union is to be recognised then…" Clearing her throat ever-so-slightly, she trailed off cringing at the formality of it all although thankful that the man nodded in understanding. The wolf stalked forward, prompting her to move her hair to one side and turn her back to him. Shivering lightly as his fingertips grazed her, untying the knots that secured her gown. "I can feel your hands trembling." She whispered breaking through the heavy atmosphere that appeared set to suffocated them. Cautiously, she turned to face him; Tully-auburn curls tickling her forehead as he lowered his gaze to her, his nose grazing her own. It took every ounce of concentration to steady the tremor of her own hands as she slowly pulled the heavy white gown from her shoulders; Ignoring the urge to cover herself and the sonic booming of her heart in her ears, she allowed it to drop to the floor. Her fingertips were gentle as she loosened the leather straps on his shirt, before lifting it just as slowly and pulling it over his head. The Stark man watched her intently - reminding himself to breathe as her hands reached the waistband of his trousers. His breath warm on her cheek and just as shaky as her own until finally, as if instinct kicked in, his hands met her own and he took over. Pulling her near to him, he stepped forward. Eyes never parting as they lowered onto the fur laden bed.

* * *

The morning sunshine crept through the crack in the wooden shutter that shielded the window, seeking out her eyes as she began to stir. A subtle groan escaped her as the howling began beneath the tower once more. Something light yet rough stroked her arm, causing a gentle frown to cross her brow as she snuggled deeper into the warmth that surrounded her, desperate to rid herself of the cold that had battered her awake most of the night. As she finally opened her eyes, she was mortified to find herself so close to Robb. Embarrassment flushed her pale skin as she removed herself from his chest and ran and hand over her face.

"Sorry." She muttered, sheepishly pulling as much of the furs around her as she could.

"Don't be. You were freezing."

Rubbing her slumber from her eyes, Rhaelle cleared her throat in an attempt to rid herself of the disconcertment: "Um…how long have you been awake?"

"Not long." His gaze wandered her, and as he took her in, he fought a smile. Raven hair wildly messy as it curled in different directions. Sea-green eyes brighter than ever as the morning sun illuminated them. A gentle frown of fatigued grumpiness threatening her brow. It surprised him how beautiful he found her. "I'll stock the fire higher tonight."

The doe twisted her hands, feeling exposed under the intensity of his stare as she shook her head lightly: "If it would make you uncomfortable…I'll get used to it."

"We both have things to get used to. It's only fair that I share in that." Robb noted the slight narrowing of her eyes as she studied him silently. It was a look that she often gave him. A look that told him that she was trying to figure out his motive. He often found it sad that the youngest Baratheon seemed to see the worst in people, and in truth the notion alone made him worry if life in King's Landing would do the very same to his younger siblings. _Everybody wants something._ "I don't have an ulterior motive." He finally spoke, his voice softer than the furs that surrounded her, a gentle smile cracking his expression as he got out of bed and gathered his clothes. "Perhaps one day you'll believe that."

Watching him intently, the doe considered the notion. Perhaps one day she would allow her heart to trust him.

_"Perhaps."_


End file.
